All Twisted Up in Black
by holleyriddle
Summary: Set before the Second Wizarding War. Watch the plot elements unfold, this time from the Dark Lord's point of view. This story also examines his complex relationship with his most beloved Death Eater. First chapters have become irrelevant. Please review!
1. Chapter 1: Bella's Possession

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter world; that belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Dark green, leather cover. Pages yellowed over time. It was just a diary like any other. Or that was, at least, how Bellatrix Lestrange got away with having it in her possession.

She ran her hand longingly over the cover, which grew warm to her touch. Hugging it to her chest, she knew the Dementors could not get to what was inside it. But she would always protect it anyway. This diary was dearer to her than many things – her husband, her freedom, even her own life.

She turned to the first, blank page, giggling quietly. The sound was strange to her ears. Many days passed where she didn't make a sound, and all she heard was the guards. Foul creatures, swooping from cell to cell, making sure every prisoner was as miserable as the next, if not more so. Sometimes it was difficult to remember she was capable of noise.

Bellatrix loved this diary, which was why she poured every bit of herself into it that she had left to give. It wasn't much, but she gave all she had to Him. That was how it had always been and would be. The diary was all she had left, besides her life sentence to Azkaban, to prove He was ever real.

Many prisoners were allowed to keep diaries, never mind that they would probably be either dead or too insane to write in them. Bellatrix was determined to not die or go mad. She dipped the quill into the ink she had been given and wrote slowly.

"Quite a downer, this place. I miss you more every day."

She paused, waiting. Her own writing momentarily disappeared, replaced by slightly neater scrawl: "Do not miss me, Bellatrix. Think of something more productive to do in your spare time."

Heart beating faster as it always did when they corresponded, Bellatrix wrote a reply as his disappeared. "My Lord, I merely meant that I miss being an active servant for you. I hate that I sit in this cell, wasting away, unable to do anything for you."

"For that mentality, you shall be rewarded, my dear Bella."

She felt a certain heaviness as a Dementor paused by her cell, sensing the lift in her mood. Once it left, she was at a loss to remember what he had said.

"Bella? Did my offer not please you?" the scrawl inquired.

"Of course it did," she wrote quickly as the happy memory came back to her. She tried to control her emotion. "But, I am worried it won't be possible. At least not here and now." _And maybe never_, she thought bitterly. _I'll never make it out of here._

"We'll see about that."

She shook her head, still not understanding. Then he continued, "I am becoming stronger as we speak. Wormtail has been helping me. You will do well to anticipate my return soon. But now, if my word is simply not enough for you…"

"Of course it is. It always is." She wasn't getting as excited as she should about his possible return. She knew better than to get her hopes up; after all, Wormtail was not the most loyal person to carry out this task. She regretted being stuck in prison more than ever now.

"Hush and come to me, Bella."

Bellatrix leaned forward, puzzled, trying to make out what he meant. Then came the falling sensation and blinding light. At least, it was blinding to her. She had become so used to the darkness of Azkaban, anything more seemed like too much.

Once she could uncover her eyes, she realized she was sitting on a Slytherin couch in front of a crackling fire. The room was the loveliest she had seen in a while. She thought of the diary, thinking that He really must be becoming more powerful if a mere book could make her feel and see all of this… But what exactly _was_ this? Where was this? It couldn't be – the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts?

A light chuckle from behind made her heart stop beating for a moment. "Yes, Bella. Does it please you?"

Bellatrix turned her head to see her Master standing behind her – the sixteen-year-old version of Himself. He was even in his school uniform. Bellatrix tingled all over as he stroked her tangled, matted hair and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"P-please me, My Lord? Why, that would be an understatement," she replied once she had caught her breath.

He moved to stand beside her, so that his gray eyes more easily met her brown ones. "Somehow I knew you would be appreciative." He smirked and put a cold finger on her cheek. Though his hands were icy, she had never felt anything better. She remained still, knowing better than to reciprocate the touch without his permission.

Bella's heart sank as she realized she was not really here. Her Master was powerful enough to put these images into her head, but she was not close to being out of prison. The comfortable room before her could crumble away in no time at all. And so could He.

"I can sense it does not satisfy you fully," he remarked.

"I was just… thinking of how it will be painful. To go back."

"Then we will make this moment count." He moved his finger from her face, down her neck, to trace along her cleavage. Noticing her hesitation, he added, "You may touch me."

"Thank you, Master," she whispered, placing her own cold hand on top of his.

He sat beside her on the couch, so close that their knees were touching. She felt like a teenage girl, as happy as this small thing made her. He smelled delectable – a woodsy, manly scent – perhaps a popular cologne among the young boys at the time he preserved this memory of himself.

"Bellatrix, you must be thinking of ways to serve me once you are freed from prison. After all, you are the smartest of all my servants… and certainly the most faithful."

Flattered, Bella blushed deeply and could not hold back a smile, which faded once she fully comprehended what he had just said. "…Freed, My Lord?"

"Surely you don't think I would leave my most valuable servant in Azkaban to rot? No, Bella. I would never do that to you. I have every intention of freeing you once I am fully alive again."

"How will you become fully alive?"

"I need the boy for that. I have someone at Hogwarts now setting the perfect trap for him. I know you are hesitant to believe this can work, but I assure you… I will not be thwarted this time. And you and I will be together, more than momentarily. I will have to keep an eye on Wormtail and most of the others, of course. But you will take his place as my primary caregiver, dearest Bella."

She smiled again and kissed his hand, sucking each of his fingers. She had to restrain herself from doing more. "Tom…" she breathed, excited.

His eyes went cold, and his voice filled with venom. "Don't call me that."

"What's the matter with it, Tom?" she taunted him. She loved the look of hate that was coming to his eyes now, and she anticipated what was coming next.

"_Crucio_!" he cried, watching as Bellatrix fell to the floor and twisted in pain.


	2. Chapter 2: Ungrateful

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter world; that belongs to J.K. Rowling.

"You have broken many of my rules, Bella, but you are not to break this one as well."

The warning in his voice was final. Bellatrix knew better than to continue taunting him, fun as it was. She enjoyed the pain he inflicted on her, even craved it. Disappointed, she crawled back to the couch but remained on the floor by his feet.

Bellatrix was unsure how much time passed before he said, "Take your seat."

"Thank you, My Lord." Bella moved beside him and lifted his hand to her face, kissing his palm. "Does that mean I am forgiven?"

She stroked his neck, and he nodded grudgingly. Bellatrix suppressed a satisfied smile. She loved when he punished her; it was so tempting to test him just a bit more.

Clearly, he hadn't recovered from her using his real name yet. Should she risk it?

She placed an uncertain hand on his trousers and slowly moved up his thigh. She wondered what it would be like to have this sixteen-year-old version of her Master. Being in prison so long, one got certain overwhelming needs.

"Don't." He grabbed her hand and held it still.

Hurt, she pulled her hand away. "I thought you… enjoyed me in that way. And since we haven't in so long –"

"Exactly," he cut her off. "I no longer have such desires."

Bellatrix said nothing, and he laughed at the sad, surprised look on her face, genuinely enjoying it. His voice turned cold again as he asked her, "So, again, what I am giving you does not please you."

"It does –"

"Merely being in my presence is not enough for you. I thought you would have been pleased by anything after being in your cell for so long. After all, you feel comfortable. You feel warm. You are sitting next to me. But I suppose for once, I am wrong. Well, I will not continue this if it is not what you want."

"I'm sorry… I did not mean –"

"Silence! _Crucio_!"

Bellatrix fell to the floor again, rolling and screaming in pain. It was not what she wanted this time. It was funny how one's perspective toward things could change in a few moments. He held the curse for quite some time, relishing every second.

When he released her, his handsome smirking face was the last thing she saw before total darkness surrounded her.

_"Bellatrix, you do not have to leave my room tonight."_

_ "But… Master, are you sure?"_

_ His stare was too intense sometimes. "Stay."_

_ The one word was pure ecstasy. Bellatrix climbed into bed beside him and lay down but had no intention of sleeping. No one had ever been invited into his chambers to stay overnight. No one had ever gotten the pleasure of watching him sleep. Why waste this privilege by sleeping it away?_

_ He turned on his side, facing away from her. She waited until he was breathing deeply and evenly, then sat up to look at his face. She had never seen it like this – eyes closed, harsh glare absent. Certainly he was her Master, her reason for living, but in the end, he was a Man too. He would have certainly cursed her for that thought because he had no desire to be a man. He wanted to be immortal, all-powerful – everything a man could not be._

_ She stroked his hair, disheveled from their recent activity, and placed a sweet kiss on his temple. He stirred slightly, and Bellatrix froze. She could not be caught doing this, lest she forfeited her privilege of being in his chamber overnight._

_ His deep, even breathing resumed, and Bellatrix slowly lay down again. She got her body as close to his as possible, gently pulling his hand back to rest on top of hers._

_ And for once, he was showing her tenderness – and he didn't even know it._


	3. Chapter 3: Unwilling Servant

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter world; that belongs to J.K. Rowling.

"Wormtail. My potion."

Peter Pettigrew jumped. His master had said nothing for the past few hours. He turned to look at the tiny, pitiful body in the chair and trembled.

"W-what did you say? Oh, y-yes. I've got the potion right here, My Lord."

Wormtail fumbled through various items on a shelf, knocking several bottles over so that they shattered and spilled onto the carpet. This searching was all an act anyway. He had not yet prepared his master's potion because the thought of milking Nagini again for her venom simply terrified him.

"Do not lie to me!" Voldemort hissed. "You've done nothing. Clean up that mess right away – after you milk Nagini." The horrible face smiled at him in a frightening way; it was a smile that even spread to the slits of eyes.

Pettigrew struggled to keep his hands steady as he lifted an empty potion bottle from the shelf. Focusing his watery eyes on the floor so as not to look at his master or Nagini, he stretched his short legs to step over the broken glass and hurried to the kitchen where the unicorn blood was stored. He made a big, noisy show of pulling it out of the cupboard and pouring it into the empty bottle. This part was the easiest. Now it was time for the one he dreaded.

He trudged back into the main room and stood there for a moment. "Nagini," Voldemort called loudly, startling Wormtail once again. Nagini coasted easily over to her Master from where she had been resting in the corner of the room. Voldemort stroked her head and said, "At least _you _are loyal to your Master." He threw a disdainful glance Wormtail's way.

"My Master, I am most loyal. I promise. Do not misunderstand my mistakes –"

"Shut up, Wormtail! You dare call yourself my 'most loyal'? I ought to order Nagini to bite you. Ah, if only you were that disposable to me right now…"

Nagini hissed – whether in agreement or something else, Wormtail could only wonder. Voldemort hissed back at her, then laughed. Pettigrew said nothing else.

Nagini hissed again while Pettigrew was in the middle of extracting her venom, and he visibly jumped. Voldemort laughed again.

"Now, now, Nagini," he chuckled, "do not tease poor Wormtail that way. We cannot have him dying of fright. At least, not until Bella is back with us."

"B-Bella? Do you mean… Bellatrix?" Peter almost dropped the bottle he was holding.

"Don't concern yourself with it, Wormtail. Just get me my potion."

Just thinking of Bellatrix was too much for him. He rather preferred her in Azkaban, far from him. She hadn't liked Wormtail at all, so she was always making fun of him and torturing him in whatever way possible. She knew he hadn't really felt loyalty toward the Dark Lord. All he did was out of fear. All the more reason she targeted him.

He remembered her as an attractive woman, but with crazy eyes and a loud laugh. The laugh was usually directed at him, the butt of every joke. He hoped she would not be back, that she would stay in prison forever. He tried to quickly break away from these thoughts before his master caught on to what he was thinking. The potion was ready anyway.

He took it to the chair on which Voldemort's weak body rested and kneeled.

"Now," Voldemort ordered.

With his hands still shaking terribly, Pettigrew watched as his master opened his ugly mouth. He poured the potion carefully down his throat. He expected it would taste awful, considering its ingredients, but Voldemort never complained or even grimaced. He made sure to pour every drop of the potion, then stood up and stepped back.

"You will not neglect the next one," Voldemort told him.

"N-no, of course not –"

"Clean up the mess you made."

Wormtail bowed, nodded, and went back into the kitchen for a broom. One of his punishments was that he could not use magic for anything other than what was necessary for keeping his master alive. He swept up the broken pieces, not liking how close Nagini was to him.

"Nagini is hungry," Voldemort informed him.

Pettigrew paused, wishing he could say, _What the hell am I to do about that?_

"She is in luck," Voldemort continued. "There is an old Muggle standing just outside the door. Wormtail, mind your manners. Invite him in."


	4. Chapter 4: Slightly Deranged

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter world; that belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Bellatrix lay on the floor, feeling weaker than ever. She knew it was because of the diary. As a Horcrux, it was in its nature to feed off her energy. Bellatrix didn't mind – she would have gladly handed over everything she had to the Dark Lord faster than he could blink.

She couldn't stop thinking about how he had gone from praising her generously to laughing her foolishness. _He's always done that_, she thought. He had a complete praise-insult relationship with her. She laughed at the thought and stroked the Dark Mark on her left forearm, imagining how his pale skin had felt all those years ago. She dug her sharp fingernails into her own skin, pretending it was his bare back, and dragged them downward, leaving long, angry red marks.

Moaning, she brought her arm to her face and kissed each of the four scratches she had left with her nails, sucking on her skin more violently with each kiss.

"Mmm, please use me, My Lord," she whispered. "Take whatever you want from me."

In response to herself, she bit down on the same arm – hard, harder, with all the strength she could muster. She tasted her blood and spit it out on her chest, rubbing it around on herself.

She had tried writing in the diary several days in a row since she had last talked to her Master, but got no response. Bellatrix planned to wait however long it took for him to give her the time of day again.

After all, she had nothing else to do.

* * *

_The news of the prophecy Severus Snape had brought had been more than disturbing. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…"_

_ Bellatrix did not like the idea of her Master going to the Potters alone if there was any truth to the prophecy, and if her Lord was indeed right that this child was the one it referred to. But, as always, Voldemort was too proud to accept her help._

_ "You think a baby is going to hurt me?" he spat. "Bellatrix, I thought you might have had a bit more faith in me than that."_

_ "I have all the faith in you in the world, Master," she replied, "but if this prophecy is true, perhaps it would be a good idea to –"_

_ "Stop your nonsense. Leave me."_

_ "Are… are you sure?" Bellatrix asked shakily, tears forming in her eyes._

_ "Leave me, foolish girl!" he shouted._

_ She walked from his chamber, shut the door, and sank down onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably._

_ Somehow she knew that would be the last time she saw him. _


	5. Chapter 5: No Other Options

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter world; that belongs to J.K. Rowling.

The "baby" Voldemort slept on the chair. He never moved from there. He couldn't, unless Pettigrew carried him.

Nagini was coiled into her resting position at the foot of the chair. Pettigrew sat on a sofa by the fire, horribly awake and paranoid. He wished he could have stayed a rat forever. It was so much easier that way. He was fed regularly, slept a lot, never got threatened. Indeed, the Weasley family had given him a good home.

Pettigrew nervously fingered the blade of a knife he was holding. He had used it earlier to cut up some ingredients for yet another potion, and he would use it in the future to extract the Potter boy's blood. And his master had hinted earlier on that evening that Pettigrew would be using the knife on himself as well.

This was why Wormtail sat awake, staring at his master as he slept.

If not for Nagini, it would be so easy to walk over to that chair, grasp the knife firmly, and slit Voldemort's throat. Slash him to pieces. Turn him back into nothing.

The thought was entirely too tempting, even with the snake around. But Pettigrew knew Voldemort could never be reduced to nothing. He would always find a way to come back. And if Pettigrew were responsible for his second death, he would be first on his master's list of those to kill, perhaps even above the Potter boy. But only because Pettigrew would be a much easier target than Potter. He had no friends, nowhere to hide.

Wormtail set the knife down on the cushion next to him. He just had to come to terms with this new life – get used to being put down, used, injured. Unless he really wanted to die a likely painful and humiliating death.

He stood, and at the same time, Nagini raised her head to look at him. She was always watching him. He turned back for the knife, deciding perhaps it was a good idea to take it to bed with him – just in case.

Nagini hissed loudly at him as he picked it up. It was as though she had heard his every thought for as long as he had been sitting there. He was not certain about the extent of Nagini's powers. He knew only that she and Voldemort could speak to and understand each other. He hoped she could not read his mind too.

Pettigrew started off for his own room, trying to push these thoughts from his head; otherwise, he would never get to sleep. He jumped as his master stirred, mumbling in his sleep as he sometimes did: "In the graveyard… it will happen. Potter."

He was just going over his plans in his dreams as he always did. He was becoming increasingly obsessed with the plan to capture Harry Potter at the tournament at Hogwarts. There were days when he spoke of nothing else. It grew tiresome for Pettigrew, who was not all that keen on harming the boy in particular. But this was the life he had chosen – because he had no other choice.

Depressed, Pettigrew turned and went to his bed.


	6. Chapter 6: Reason to Live

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter world; that belongs to J.K. Rowling.

He was getting stronger. Bellatrix knew it as she paced back and forth in her cell, even if he could not or would not speak to her. Her Dark Mark stung most of the time, though it was still inactive. She wished more than anything that it would turn black and burn, but even if it did, she would have no way of getting away from Azkaban. For once, she wouldn't be able to respond to His summon.

_How strange that would be_, she thought. She hoped he would be able to free her before summoning with the Mark.

She had cast aside the diary some days ago, frustrated at the lack of response. All it did was wear her out – as if the Dementors did not already help enough with that. But why worry about that? Might as well be worn out in this place, since sleep was the only time-consuming thing to do. Besides going mad or dying.

Bella sat down on the floor, barely noticing how it made her body ache anymore, and picked up the diary. As usual, she flipped to the first page with nothing on it and shrugged. _Why the hell not_.

"Diary. You're not there, obviously. But I guess I'll write because there's nothing to do. If not for you, prison would not be worth sitting here, wasting away and losing my good looks." She smirked and continued, "Speaking of that, I'd love a bath right now. But I digress. Things seem quite hopeless. Sometimes I think I'll be stuck in here forever, reduced to a skeleton in the corner when it's all over…"

"You won't."

Bellatrix blinked. She caught another look at the ink on the page, handwriting that certainly was not hers. Then it faded, and she laughed maniacally.

_Oh I should have known he'd wait 'til I'd gone daft to write another word._

She decided to continue as if she had seen nothing. "I'd be a filthy skeleton, with a mangy mess of hair on top. What a funny thought."

"Hilarious."

"I'd die either pleasuring myself or sleeping, since those are the only two things to do in here really. For the living, at least," she went on, still ignoring him. "Terrible way to go."

"I would say so."

"Of course, going ahead and dying young would be better than living a long life in this cell with no one to talk to except myself. Although, that can be fun at times."

"You can stop now, Bella."

"If that would please you, dearest Master."

She sighed and put down her quill, unable to defy a command from Him, although it seemed more like a request. She knew better than to test him again.

"I still stand by what I said. I am stronger today than when we last talked. Don't worry, Bella. You will be freed from prison, along with the others who went there for me, and I will reward each of you greatly. Others like Wormtail will not be as fortunate – that is, once I don't need him anymore. He is rather a pivotal part of my plan now."

"I believe you."

"Thank you. A little more faith from you would be nice. It's obvious that you doubt me."

"I don't doubt you. It's Wormtail I doubt. You cannot trust him to care for you. He's only doing everything out of fear."

"I know that. And you would be my first choice for his job, were you out of prison."

Her heart felt like it stopped beating for a moment. She loved it when he flattered her. "I would adore the privilege to take care of you, My Lord." She put the quill down again to rub her inner left forearm.

"I won't need it for much longer. Don't concern yourself with it. Just trust my judgment."

It was just like him to make her feel important, almost special, and then shoot her down as soon as she responded with enthusiasm. She rubbed the page where his writing had appeared, wanting him more than ever. She picked up the quill and responded, "Whether you need it or not, My Lord, I could take care of you in more ways than one." She wrote delicately, as she would have liked to whisper it into his ear.

"I've told you, Bellatrix. I don't want that anymore."

"Suit yourself, then, My Lord." It would have only made him think her foolish if she had expressed anything other than acceptance. But she knew he would come around. He would come back to life in a much stronger human form, she was sure, but the key word was "human." She knew he would still have… desires.

Or at least, that was what she told herself to keep from going mad wanting him.


	7. Chapter 7: Voldemort Returns

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter world; that belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Part I – Wormtail

In one hand is the body of my master bundled in black robes and in the other is my wand. Harry Potter and another boy stand before us. I do not know the name of the other. I am ordered to kill him and I do it. I don't want to. But I know the spell and I have to do it. He falls to the ground and Potter screams while raising a hand to his scar. Apparently it hurts him. He screams bloody murder and cries out for this "Cedric" I have just murdered but all I want is for it to stop but my master will kill me if I focus on anything other than him. I secure my grip on him because if I drop him there will be hell to pay. I raise the bone of the father as I have been instructed then watch as it goes into the cauldron. Potter knows what I am about to do as I secure my wand and take out the knife I have carried with me everywhere. I try to ignore his hate-filled expression that is much too deep for a boy of his young age to have. "Do it! Do it!" my master cries. I cut Potter's arm and hold it over the cauldron to drip. Blood of the enemy. I have known what is coming next for months but it doesn't make me feel any more prepared for it than I did when my master first told me that he would require my blood. My hand. He has promised me another hand. The hand is not the loss. It's the pain I know I will feel. I have always feared pain. I pause for a moment hoping there is some other way but my master hisses violently in my arm. I switch the knife to the arm I am holding him with and put my other hand above the cauldron. One two three. Counting will not make it any easier so I just do it. It should be a swift motion but it feels like it takes years to me. My hand is no longer a part of me and it is in the cauldron. Flesh of the servant. Perhaps not willingly given but I do my best to act that way. I am proud of myself for not even shedding a tear although I did shout and drop the knife but luckily not my master. I raise him above the cauldron and drop him in gently as I have been instructed. "Drown let it drown!" Potter cries and I cannot completely disagree with him. It doesn't drown. My master rises from the cauldron strong tall and very much alive. He towers above me now and now I really am but a mere servant. The red eyes are much more threatening on this body. Should have slit his throat while I had the chance. The dark lord has risen again and it's all because of me. What have I done?

What have I done?

Part II – Bella

I wake in the night – or is it morning? It's hard to ever know here. It's always dark. My arm has that familiar burning sensation, very familiar even though I have not felt it for years. I am unsure at first, groggy, but as it hurts more I understand. My Dark Mark feels as though it is on fire. Pain is truth. My Lord has returned!

And I intend to wake every person in this damned prison to spread the word. I throw myself against the bars, laughing and clattering my chains on them. "He's here!" I cry. "The Dark Lord has risen!"

"My Lord…" I whisper the name to myself, my voice filled with lust.

The fire on my left forearm continues and I scream, scream for all I'm worth, because I've got to let everyone know he's back.

It's the only thing I can do.

I can't go to him right now.

I throw myself against the bars again. "Damn you!" I cry at the Dementors, who are now catching on to my pure joy. "Fuck you all. You think you can take this away from me? DO YOU? I am BELLATRIX BLACK LESTRANGE, and he is BACK, I tell you!"

I laugh at every one of them… all that I can… and shrink back into my cell and slide down the wall onto the floor. The brick scratches at the bare bit of my neck and back, but I don't care.

I'm still in love.


	8. Chapter 8: Dangerous Mood

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Bellatrix had never hated the prison walls more than she hated them the moment she felt her Dark Mark burn.

Hours later, she lay on the floor muttering to her inner left forearm, mostly nonsense. She wondered who had responded to his summon. She would have been the first one by his side if she could have Disapparated from her cell. She would have kissed his toes, worshiped the ground he was standing on, and done whatever he asked of her. She would have been his Queen, if it were possible. But he did not have equals. She would simply be his servant for life, and she was fine with that.

Had he killed Potter? She knew that would give her Master the greatest joy – and in turn, it would make her happy. The Potter brat deserved to die anyway. That would take the triumphant, self-righteous looks off the faces of the Mudbloods and any of their stupid supporters. Bellatrix smirked at the thought.

If only she could think of a way to be with him. But there was the diary. The diary! Bellatrix smacked her own face. "Why didn't I think of that earlier?" she asked aloud. "Damn prison has made me loopy."

Like her Mark, it was now warm to her touch. She opened it. Too restless to sit down and write, she asked uncertainly, "My Lord?"

She leaned forward as she had done the last time she had seen him with her own eyes – and again, she fell and saw the blinding light.

Once her eyes had adjusted, he was standing before her. "You ask for me, and here I am," he said, a strange glint in his eyes. It went perfectly with his handsome cheekbones and rosy, full lips that were slightly curved downward in a frown. _Oh no, is he angry at me? He knew I wouldn't be able to come to him when I felt my Mark burning._

"I know of your return, Master," she began to explain. "I know I could not come to your summon, but it's all I can think of… it would have been the highest honor to be by your side as you came back to life, to being…"

"Quiet, Bella." He put a finger, no longer icy, but pleasantly warm, against her lips. She kissed it. "I know you would have been by my side if it were… possible."

She sank in a bow that almost went all the way to his feet. "My Lord, I hope you do not ever doubt my loyalty."

He put his hands on her arms to bring her back up. "I know," he said quietly, and it was then that Bellatrix sensed he was not entirely happy.

"What is wrong, Master?"

The young Tom Riddle began to shake his head, and she noticed both of his fists were clenched by his sides. They were shaking. "I… didn't kill him. Potter is still alive."

Bellatrix didn't know what to say. But she knew it was best to tread carefully when he was in this sort of mood. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have helped you. Perhaps I –"

"No!" he shouted. "I am supposed to kill Potter. No one else is to kill him for me. I must do it. But our wands – they connected in a funny way, before I could even cast a curse…"

Bella's eyes widened. "Did Potter have anything to do with that? Did he cause the connection? I don't understand, My Lord. He is nothing but a boy. I know you can kill him. Any escape on his part is just good luck –"

"I should certainly hope so. It cannot be that Potter has skill beyond his age level… " He shook his head again. It was clear to Bellatrix that he did fear that Potter was more advanced in magic than he thought, but she knew he would never say so. She carefully placed a hand on his cheek in a reassuring manner. She breathed a bit more rapidly as his hand slowly came up to rest on top of hers. Losing herself in the moment, she leaned forward, targeting his beautiful lips with hers…

Something hard and sharp pounded the side of her head, and Bella was knocked away from him. She reached up to touch where she had been hit. Her hand was bloody when she looked at it again. On the hand he had struck her with, he was wearing his grandfather's ring.

Bellatrix grinned. She liked to play rough. She advanced on him again. He grabbed her face and held it firmly away from him. "Don't do this, Bella."

"You want it, Master, I can sense it…"

"NO!" he yelled again. "I don't! And you'll do well not to try anything like that again."

He loosened his grip on her face, and she went in for a kiss again, testing him. He hit her again on the same side of her face, leaving more bloody scratch marks with his ring.

"Get out of my sight," he snapped.

Bellatrix had no choice but to obey, as he was spinning away from her and all she saw was total darkness. Her eyes had to adjust again, but even if they hadn't, she recognized the uncomfortable ground of her cell. She had flung the diary away from her at some point, as it was on the floor on the opposite side from her. Gasping for breath, she felt the left side of her face and looked at her fingers. Blood. Lots of it.

Pain is truth.

She laughed and tasted her fingers, then passed out.


	9. Chapter 9: A Dark Lord's Best Friend

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Voldemort tossed and turned. He had taken over the bed in which Wormtail used to sleep, and poor Wormtail had been forced onto the couch in the other room. Nagini lay at the foot of what was now her Master's bed, watchful as ever, though Voldemort did not need her protection anymore. She was disturbed, however, by his unrest.

The Dark Lord's dreams – or were they nightmares? – tormented him, drove into him the many ways he had failed at killing Harry Potter. His mind kept replaying that damn connection their wands had made. _Why_ had they done that?

To make matters worse, Bellatrix Lestrange lingered in his dreams as well. She wanted to be his servant in a way he no longer wanted. Or did he want it? This indecisiveness would perhaps drive him mad.

She came to him in her tatty, ugly prison uniform, torn just above her left breast. His eyes lingered there for a moment, wishing the hole were bigger, but he forced himself to look down at the floor and clenched his fists. She thought he was only angry about the Potter fiasco. Of course, that made him furious. But there was something else. Something that nagged him, besides that alluring tear in her uniform.

As he had undressed himself that night (finally, he could do it alone), he thought of Bellatrix. The bed was large enough to fit another person; he thought of the nights Bellatrix had kept him company in his bed, though he did not need her company for the entire night. He only needed her for one thing – no, not needed – he just wanted her for the one thing. But that was a long time ago. He knew he was stronger now, not quite human. He didn't need or want her. And the nights he had allowed her to sleep with him… well, he was doing her a favor, giving her a reward for being at his every beck and call. He did not care at all where she slept. _She could have gone crawling back to her boring husband, freshly filled with my seed, and I couldn't have cared less,_ he had told himself. His last thought before falling into this disturbed sleep.

In his dream, Bellatrix had tried to kiss him. The blood dripping down the side of her face moments later, right after he hit her, was undoubtedly beautiful. Stubborn, she tried it again, but he couldn't hit her again. Not yet. He was too busy admiring the way the blood dripped from her temple down her cheek, crossing her lovely jaw line; it was rather arousing. _Arousing?_ This thought angered him more, and he hit her again when she made another move.

Her blood did nothing but make him crave her more. "Get out of my sight," he said, not only to her, but aloud in his sleep.

Nagini crept into bed with him, wishing to comfort him somehow. He woke with his hand on her, stroking her softly.

If snakes could purr…


	10. Chapter 10: Sick and Tired

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Waking, Bella felt nauseous, dizzy, and more than a bit disoriented. It was as though she had been up all night (or day) drinking Firewhiskey.

She sat up slowly, very slowly, but it couldn't help her avoid the inevitable. She leaned over and vomited on the floor. She waited in case there was more to come, and once assured, scooted as far away as possible from it. "Ugh," she groaned, lying back down.

She just wanted to go back to sleep. Minutes passed, until finally what she was sure was an hour had gone. She felt nauseated again, but she couldn't gather her strength to move back to the spot she had already dirtied. Her body ached all over.

Bellatrix reached up for her hair, which was mostly matted to one side of her head with dried blood. "All I want in this life is to have a good bath," she muttered, though she knew there was much more she wanted in life… all of which she couldn't have – just like the good bath. She chuckled bitterly at the thought.

She continued mumbling, stuck in her disoriented madness. "He's coming for me. I know he is. He won't leave me. The question is, when he is coming? Hmm, maybe he'll give me a bath. Although I would hope to have one before seeing him again. I am quite nasty in this state. Oh, I need help…" Bellatrix rolled over on the floor, wishing for dear unconsciousness. "Please, please. If I could just go back to _sleep_."

The ceiling was spinning. Bellatrix imagined that this was how pregnant women felt when they woke in the morning and cringed at the thought of ever bearing a child. Her husband had wanted a child, mainly a son, to carry on their name. Bellatrix was glad she had never agreed. She didn't have the time or desire for a child. "Some good mum I would be chucked in prison," she thought aloud, laughing. "So stupid, Rodolphus. What a fool you are."

Children were so disgusting, anyway, what with their snotty little noses and dirty fingers. Bellatrix looked down at her own, frowning. Her nails were filthy. But she couldn't help it.

She cared nothing for carrying on the Lestrange name. She cared nothing for her husband, now that she thought about it. There would only be one Person she would ever care about. And she would stop at nothing until he felt the same way. Perhaps he already felt it, but he was too stubborn to admit it. And even if he did admit it, how would she get that stupid husband of hers off her back?

Poison him, perhaps. Bella grinned despite her misery. Rodolphus's face fluttered in her memory, and she vomited again.

_ "Bella, your Cruciatus is too weak."_

_ "I suppose it is hard to focus at this moment, My Lord." Her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink; Bellatrix smiled slyly up at him._

_ The Dark Lord lowered his wand, an intrigued look on his face. "Why this moment? It must be strong every moment. You should never let it falter. Come, I can teach you."_

_ "P-please, M-My Lord, must you continue to… p-practice with me?" Wormtail asked, trembling all over. "H-have mercy, please…"_

_ Bellatrix and Voldemort looked down at him, not in pity, but surprised that he dared speak. "Silence!" Voldemort commanded him, and turning to Bellatrix, asked almost sweetly, "Would you prefer another subject to practice on?"_

_ Grinning evilly at Pettigrew, Bella answered, "No, My Lord. This is fine."_

_ "Curse you, you b–" Pettigrew began, but before he could finish, he was hit with a curse from the Dark Lord and cried out in pain. The curse was held for more than a minute, and Voldemort finally let go, enjoying the pain in Wormtail's eyes. Bellatrix cackled out of pure glee._

_ "Now, Bellatrix. Give it your best try," Voldemort told her._

_ "Yes, My Lord," she said, doing her best to focus on Wormtail, who looked truly terrified. She pointed her wand at him and, with all the hate she could muster, cried "_Crucio_!" Wormtail shrieked and rolled to the other side of the room. The sound of his screams was worse than a baby's. Bellatrix could not seem to hold the spell anymore once he had rolled away._

_ "Bella, Bella, Bella," Voldemort sighed, shaking his head. Her stomach did a flip as he said her name three times in a row. "Come here. Stand right here. Yes, that's it. Now…"_

_ He put his hand over hers, which gripped her wand. He moved her fingers a bit and turned her hand over slightly. "Better, now try. With feeling," he told her. Bellatrix's heart was about to pound out of her chest at his touch. She did not want him to step away, and it was all she could think about as he stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to curse Wormtail again. "Now, Bella."_

_ "_Crucio_!" she shouted – her wand pointed at Wormtail but her eyes on her Master. Wormtail let out a yelp of pain, but that was all. Refocusing, she noticed he did not appear to be in any pain at all. The curse had only held for a second. Embarrassed, she looked back at her Master._

_ "You've got to _look_ at him for it to work, foolish girl," he told her. "Why were you looking at me?"_

_ Bellatrix lowered her wand, blushing deeply. She answered his question with another question, blurted it out before she could stop herself. "What do you think of love, Master?"_

_ The entire room fell silent. Wormtail dared not look at anyone. Bellatrix looked at her Master, waiting patiently for his response. Lord Voldemort returned her look with one of great intensity and fury._

_ "Love, Bella? Love," he scoffed. "There is no such thing. Love is not real; it is something fools dream up. It creates weakness, pain. Death. Bellatrix, I hope this is not a serious question."_

_ Shut down, Bellatrix nodded. "It… was just a joke. Of course." She wished her face would cool off._

_ "I take it we can continue with the more important matter at hand?"_

_ "Yes," she answered weakly._

_ "Good. Continue."_

_ Bellatrix's hand was shaking as she pointed her wand at Wormtail again._


	11. Chapter 11: Finally

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

January, 1996

"What do you want, wretch?"

The Dementor hovered by Bellatrix's cell, seemingly doing nothing. She felt no effect on her mood, but decided to remain wary. She stared at the ugly creature for seconds, and then minutes, before she finally perceived that something was awry.

Listening, she heard a squeaky cell door, followed by a bang, and then shouting. She couldn't recognize the voice or understand what the person was shouting, but certainly this was not normal.

"What do you want?" she repeated loudly, glaring angrily at the Dementor. Nothing happened.

"What kind of buggery is this?" she asked no one in particular this time. "What in the hell? Is it bloody going to stare at me all day? This is rather creepy. What in Merlin's –"

This time it was not more banging or shouting that she heard, but wind. Wind so strong that she could hear it through the thick walls. Suddenly she felt as though she might freeze and wished she had more than this ripped, thin prison uniform. "B-bloody h-hell," she muttered through chattering teeth, "b-bugger this…"

The Dementor waved its hand, if one could call it that, and Bella's cell door opened. The Dementor motioned, as if telling her to come forward.

But they never let her out without checking to make sure she had no weapons on her or binding her hands first. Was this some sort of trick? Bellatrix grinned. She didn't care if it was; what more could they do to her? Picking up the diary, she stepped forward with it tucked securely under her arm. The Dementor pointed, and she walked in the direction it indicated.

The wind blew heavily against her, as if to urge her back, but she ignored it. She would freeze to death before going back into that cell. She saw the faintest light, and she continued to walk toward it.

The light grew brighter, the white of a cloudy day, and she shielded her eyes. She was almost outside. And no one was stopping her. No one.

She cackled in sheer delight – she hadn't walked this far by herself in ages. "Yes! Yes!" she cried, the Dementors circling above her but for once not after her. They were on to something bigger and better than this stupid prison, and so was she.

Frowning, Bellatrix held out her wrist. Her Mark was not burning yet. "Is it really you, Master?" she whispered to it. "Where will you have me go?" She continued to walk slowly, unsure of a direction. The most logical place to go, for now, seemed to be outside. She followed the source of light, and the wind grew even more miserable. In the distance, she could hear the sea churning angrily.

"Master?" she called. No sign of anyone anywhere – most of the Dementors had gone or were disappearing before her eyes. If only she could see their destination…

Bellatrix opened the diary as a last resort. Her heart jumped to see that something was already written on the first page:

"Little Hangleton. House. My Bedroom."

Never one to hesitate, Bellatrix imagined what was written. A faint pop, and she was gone.


	12. Chapter 12: Unwanted Servant

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Bellatrix was shaking with anticipation and delight when she reached the Riddle House. The bedroom was as she remembered it: dark, same furniture from years ago, dusty, cluttered with books from her Master's time before Hogwarts, during, and after. If she wanted to read about Dark Magic, he must have owned every book there was on the subject. In fact, she had read some of those books during the days that he helped her improve her curses.

She walked over to the bed and gently touched the pillow, resisting the urge to flop down on the green sheets. She was filthy and did not want to dirty the place He slept. No, she didn't imagine that her Dear Master would appreciate that very much. But indeed the bed looked lovely – she hadn't slept on one for years.

Did he mean for her to stay in the bedroom upon arrival? She heard no voices outside, nothing to indicate that he was even here. She opened the diary again, checking the first page, but the writing had disappeared. Frustrated, she dropped the diary on the desk and tried to wait patiently, which proved difficult.

A mirror was by the door, but she did not want to look at herself. She knew the sight would be horrid, and she did not want to take the liberty of bathing in his house without his permission. It would have been no point bathing anyway; she had no other clothes. Bellatrix sighed as she ran a hand through her long, matted hair.

Bellatrix continued to agonize: should she be sitting or standing? If standing, what did her posture look like? (Again, using the mirror was out of the question.) Her Azkaban uniform was bloody awful, even without all the holes in it. And what was she going to _say_?

_My God, I am a teenager again,_ she thought.

She couldn't breathe anymore as she heard a hiss outside the door. "Leave me, Wormtail."

"Y-yes, Master," responded Wormtail's shaky voice. Bellatrix couldn't resist rolling her eyes at him.

The doorknob began to turn, and Bellatrix straightened up, still not breathing, heart beating wildly.

She saw his face first, as the rest of him was covered in black robes. He was quite different, compared to… before. But it was a difference she could get used to, she thought. One look at his red eyes, and she was trembling in… fear? Remembrance? Lust? All three? _It's your Master, your only Master. You love him. It's ok_, she tried to reassure herself. The nose was quite snakelike, but his mouth, those lips – that was something she knew. This was her Tom.

"Bella," he whispered, shutting the door behind him.

She tried to respond, but she could not find her voice just yet.

She was exactly as she had been in his dreams. Again, his eyes lingered on the tear in her prison uniform, just above her breast. He resisted the urge to reach through it and stroke her pale skin. He was sure it was nothing. It was the first time he had seen her in reality since they had last been physical with each other, before his so-called "death." Surely this type of urge was just from remembering and would go away. He was not a human anymore.

"Well? Your Master frees you as you wished, and you will not speak?" He placed a long, pale finger on her cheek.

"Cannot… could not, find my voice. For a moment," she breathed. "But I sincerely thank you, Master. I could not imagine a better reward than being freed to see you right here, at this time. You have no idea what an honor…"

"Yes, hush," he said, moving his finger over her lips. She kissed it sweetly, gently, and he removed it to look at it as though it would have left a mark. After the pause, he lowered his hand and continued, "You may be wondering why I summoned you separately from the others I freed. Why I did not call you by your Mark. Am I right?"

"Others?" she asked.

"Yes, Bella. I freed all my followers from Azkaban with the help of the Dementors. They have joined our side now. But I wanted to see you apart from everyone else."

"Why is that, Master?" Bellatrix asked, her eyes wide.

Voldemort paused again. For once, he had set himself up with no particular answer, and now he was asking himself. Why _did_ he want to see her apart from the others? He looked at her again and simply replied, "Because you deserve a bath. Come, Bella."

Well, this was certainly an unexpected answer. She could not help but blush slightly. _Perhaps I _am_ disgusting him_, she thought.

He led her into the washroom. It was like heaven to her: a real bathtub, towels, soap. Amazing. There was a mirror in there too, but she dared not even glance at it. He started the water for her, and she hesitated. Her Azkaban uniform, which she would normally have been in a hurry to remove, was making her feel rather secure at the moment. She felt surprisingly shy in front of him.

He did not seem to notice her hesitation and began to remove her clothing himself. Before she could stop herself, she clutched at it self-consciously.

"Let go, Bella," he said. It did not quite sound like a request.

She shook her head, blushing madly now.

"Bellatrix," he warned her. She didn't let go, and, becoming angrier by the second, he took out his wand.

"C-can't I just… do it by myself…" she asked weakly.

He could not think immediately, he was so angry. And he wasn't fully sure why it infuriated him so. And that damned tear in her rags caught his eye again – the one he couldn't stop looking at – and he reached for it this time. He grabbed it and pulled with all his might, ripping it more, revealing her nipple, then her entire breast, then her abdomen… but the beautiful, pale skin he remembered was not entirely visible under all the filth. He wondered when they had last let her bathe, and that made him even angrier.

He knew why he had wanted this. He had meant to test himself. But perhaps now was not the time.

"All right," he spat. "I won't do it then."

"Master, please don't be –"

"Wormtail will attend to you –"

"No! I am perfectly capable of –"

"Shut up!" he roared. Bellatrix shrank away from him, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. "I bring you here with the intention of caring for you myself, and you throw it back in my face. Well, I will not give rewards when they are unwanted. Wormtail will take care of you. And you will not complain or snivel."

Bellatrix nodded, hastily wiping away her tears. She stood still as her Master yelled for Wormtail.

He scuttled into the room momentarily, stammering as always. "Y-yes, b-but I thought you wanted me to… to l-leave you, M-Master?"

"I have no use for you," the Dark Lord replied, "but Bellatrix does. Undress and bathe her now."

Bellatrix watched, too repulsed to think anymore, as Pettigrew's whole countenance lit up, at first in surprise, and then in perverted delight at his Master's orders. Sneering, Pettigrew approached her and reached for her tatty outfit. His hands lingered too long over her chest before he pulled the uniform over her head.

Her entire body was caked in dirt. Bellatrix stood humiliated as two pairs of eyes appraised her. It was a good thing she had not eaten for a long time, otherwise she could have vomited in response to the look Wormtail was giving her. _Suppose I should let him have his fun_, she thought, _he can't have seen many naked female bodies before_.

Besides, it was not Wormtail's opinion that she cared about. But her Master's… that was different.

"Into the tub," Wormtail mumbled, putting his hand on her bare ass.

"Fuck off," she hissed as she was nearly pushed in to the bathtub.

Voldemort had seen enough. "Bathe her until she is completely clean. Then you, Wormtail, will feed Nagini."

Bellatrix watched as he stalked away without waiting for either of them to reply, imagining his longer, more adept fingers in place of Wormtail's.


	13. Chapter 13: Power Trip

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

WARNING: This chapter may be ideologically sensitive. Please do not read if you are extremely sensitive to the subject of rape.

Pettigrew's smug smile remained after the bath, but Bellatrix believed it was only because they came out of the washroom to find their Master gone. Had this not been the case, Wormtail would have gone back to his usual, fearful self. He had feared Bella in the past, but the bath incident seemed to make him feel as though he had more power over her. And there was always the comforting fact that she had not yet obtained a wand.

Bellatrix left the towel wrapped tightly around her as she waited for Wormtail to retrieve some clothes for her. She vowed to herself that she would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her naked again – though, she never thought she would find herself in that situation in the first place, and the only reason it happened was because of her Master's orders.

Wormtail was taking his time, poking about the room. Bellatrix sighed and told him, "Stop playing games, Wormtail. I know you know where my clothes are. Hurry up."

Pettigrew smiled a little wider and did not answer. He continued to feign ignorance and began to slowly search through a sock drawer.

_If only I had my damn wand_, she thought.

"Goddamn you, Wormtail!" she shouted after another couple of minutes. "Stop this. Stop it now. I want my clothes."

"That would be a waste," he replied softly.

"What are you talking about? The bloody clothes, Wormtail. This instant."

"We both like to look at you. Perhaps the Dark Lord will be pleased for you to wander about with nothing on. And I, his best servant, will be praised for the idea –"

"You're bloody ridiculous. Now stop. He told you to feed Nagini. You had best hurry up – if you have not done what you were told by the time he comes back –"

"Bugger that stupid snake," Wormtail interrupted, turning around to face her. "I'm so sick of it. So sick…"

His eyes were trailing down to her breasts again. Her cleavage was quite pronounced, the way she folded her arms to keep the towel drawn tightly about her. He grinned, and she cringed at the sight of his ugly teeth. He reached down into her towel with his small hand, ignoring her protests.

"Wormtail, stop that! You don't know what you're doing – when I get my wand back –"

She tried to scream but was stifled as he pressed his lips fiercely into hers, squeezing her breast so hard that it hurt her. His breath was atrocious, and she did her best to keep her lips tightly shut, not moving against his. She would have preferred kissing a rubbish bin, or a Hippogriff's arse, to this.

She let the towel drop so both her hands were free to attempt shoving him away. He was small, but fairly strong, more so than she would have expected. She placed her hands on both sides of his face and scratched as hard as she could with her abnormally long nails.

It worked. Wormtail pulled away, shoving her with all the hate he could muster into the desk behind her. A couple dozen books, which had been stacked neatly on the desk, fell to the floor. "Fuck… you…" Bellatrix breathed at Wormtail, clutching at the small of her back, which was aching from the force of her crash.

"That's the idea," he whispered, grinning and stepping forward to grab her again. Four angry marks were appearing on either side of his face, but he didn't seem to care anymore.

"Get away from me!" she cried as he grabbed both her wrists and threw her at the bed. Her head slammed into the headboard, making her eyes tear up in response to the pain. She was determined not to let them fall; she could not give him the satisfaction. In the moment it took her to recover from being thrown with such force, Wormtail had already unzipped his pants and put his hands back on her wrists to restrain her.

"Oh god," she muttered, seeing no escape. She was going to be raped, and horribly. She only hoped that he would not breathe on her too much. Surely the few contents that were still in her stomach would come up if she had to smell his breath any more… she closed her eyes, trying to forget what he looked like.

A few more seconds, and nothing had happened yet. He released her arms and was no longer touching her at all. Did she dare open her eyes to see what the hell was going on?

She did. And she was not disappointed in the least.

Wormtail was now on the opposite side of the room, far from her. The smug look had completely left his face and was replaced by an expression of pure terror. His face was an awful shade of red and purple, so much that the scratch marks were barely visible anymore. Her Master stood behind him, wand tip shoved into the side of his short neck. The Dark Lord did not speak at first, giving Wormtail plenty of time to become increasingly afraid for his life.

"P-please, Master, I just… j-just…"

"Did you feed Nagini?" Voldemort asked him, quite calmly.

"N-not yet. S-she was t-t-tormenting me, M-Master, t-teasing me. Oh, the hateful things she said, so hateful…"

"I did not know you can understand Parseltongue. How odd. But yes, she is always saying hateful things about you, Wormtail. She thinks you are completely idiotic. And so do I."

"N-not the snake, n-no…"

"Ah. Bellatrix, not Nagini, was tormenting you?"

"Y-yes, Master, yes! She was h-horrid –"

"Say no more." Voldemort brought his wand away from Wormtail and pointed it at Bellatrix, walking slowly toward her. Wormtail looked up, hopeful.

One more moment of deliberation, and the Dark Lord turned on him suddenly and shouted, "_Crucio_!"

Bellatrix, who had been watching the exchange in shock, laughed as Pettigrew fell to the floor and relished the sound of his screams. For a moment, she had forgotten about being completely naked (though she did not mind as much now that she was clean). Looking down at herself again, she quickly pulled the sheet up to her neck and continued to enjoy Pettigrew's torture.

Within another minute or so, Voldemort broke the curse, lowered his wand, and simply stared at Wormtail as he lay on the floor. Bellatrix was unable to catch her Master's eye, but she would have killed for a glimpse into his thoughts.

"Now," Voldemort finally began, "perhaps my instructions confused you, Wormtail. What did I say you were to do?"

"Feed… Nagini," Pettigrew croaked, breathing heavily.

"Before that," Voldemort replied quickly, feeling impatient.

"Bathe… her." Pettigrew shied away from Bellatrix's name. _And for good reason_, Bellatrix thought. _He should be afraid. Once I have my wand back, I'll kill him._

"That's it. Bathe her. And it looks as though you did that. I did not tell you to do anything extra besides feeding Nagini, am I correct?" He was able to keep the impatience out of his voice, but it was nearly as scary as it would have been if he had been raging at Wormtail.

"N-no, Master, but she d-deserved it –"

"Quiet!" Voldemort snapped. "I will decide what she deserves. That is not up to you. Now pull up your pants, feed Nagini, and stay out of my sight for the rest of the day."

Bellatrix stifled another laugh as she watched Wormtail fumble nervously to pull up and zip his pants. He stood up and tripped twice on his way out of the room. Voldemort waved his wand, and the door slammed shut behind him.

"He did not give you your clothes."

Bellatrix was unsure whether or not this was a question, so she remained silent, patiently waiting for her Master to speak again. She grew afraid when his expression became one of intense fury, and she dared not move.

He waved his wand harshly and the remaining books and papers that were on the desk flew off and hit the wall with a loud bang. He began to storm about the room, turning things over and tossing, ripping, smashing, everything he came in contact with. Bellatrix watched in horror as he trashed his own room.

Finally he seemed to calm down and became motionless, staring at the wall.

Bellatrix jumped when he spoke again – because it was more roaring than speaking.

"WHAT WERE YOU _THINKING_? WHAT DID YOU DO? AND ON _MY_ BED, IN _MY_ HOUSE…?" He grabbed her hair and pulled so hard that she had to stand up. She could barely breathe anymore for panicking – why did he think _she_ had encouraged this? Surely anyone who knew anything about Bellatrix Black Lestrange would realize _this_ would never have been her own idea, not in a million years, even if Wormtail were the last man on earth.

He let go of her to turn to a drawer and pull out a black robe – no, it was a dress – and threw it at her. She almost dropped it once she caught it and stepped away from him when he spoke again.

"Here, Lestrange," he hissed, "put it on. Put it on and get out."

She slowly put the dress on, trying to think of something to say to make him change his mind. Somehow the dress was exactly her size. How did he just happen to have this lying around, and how did he know it would fit her just right? Knowing better than to question, she said nothing of it.

"Get out," he repeated, more quietly this time, once she had the dress on.

"Master, I didn't –"

"Out."

Bellatrix took a deep breath and Apparated before he could see her cry.

The Dark Lord stared at the part of the floor Bella had been standing on moments ago. He took a wand out of his robes, but not his own. Eleven inches, blackthorn, thestral hair. He had acquired it while he was out, and it had been his intention to give it to Bellatrix. He placed it on the desk and walked out of the room without a backward glance at the mess of books and papers strewn on the floor.


	14. Chapter 14: Reunions

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Bellatrix stood in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, sobbing.

Nobody was home, or so it seemed, so she thought she was safe. She cried openly and relived the whole fiasco in her mind, from the bath to Wormtail's… attempt.

She had never thought him capable of such an abominable thing. She had always thought of Pettigrew as rather asexual, but now she knew he was perverted as they could come. She was glad her Master had intervened, but why would he ever think that she actually _encouraged_ or _wanted_ it?

"Bella?" came a small voice from the entrance to the drawing room.

Bellatrix wiped her eyes and looked up, surprised. "Cissy?"

Narcissa Malfoy walked to her slowly, studying her face. Bellatrix was amazed at how her sister had aged; though Bella was older, no one would have guessed by going off appearances. But it was perhaps her eyes that made her look so old – they were filled with worry, and a deep kind of sadness.

Narcissa hugged her sister tightly. Sniffling, Bellatrix hugged her back.

"I heard the others escaped. I hoped it would only be a matter of time before you came here. Rodolphus has been waiting for you," Narcissa informed her. "Is everything all right?" she added, knowing her sister had not meant for her to see her crying.

Bellatrix frowned at the mention of her husband and ignored the question. "Where's Lucius?" she asked.

"Asleep. He's been quite… stressed lately," Narcissa admitted. "He can hardly sleep at all at night. I will tell him you are here when he wakes. Perhaps it would be nice if all of us sat down to dinner together. We could catch up."

"Stressed? What's wrong, Cissy?"

Narcissa hesitated for a moment, not particularly wanting to speak to her sister of what was bothering her and her husband. She knew what Bella would say. "Well, there has been some talk. The Dark Lord has informed Lucius that he wishes to use our home as his… headquarters."

Bella's eyes widened. "And why would that be a curse? Why, that is the greatest honor I could imagine. Cissy, you should be beyond thrilled, and so should Lucius."

Narcissa sighed, not surprised at all by her sister's response. "I figured you would say that."

"Cissy! Listen to yourself. Why are you so displeased? Why do you turn your nose up at our Master's desire? He has use for us, and you would deny him? I hope you have not expressed displeasure in front of him."

"Of course not!" Cissy exclaimed, flabbergasted that her sister would think her so foolish. "But if you _must_ know, he is not very happy with Lucius lately, and I worry for his life. Anyone who displeases the Dark Lord… well, you know how that usually turns out –"

"Then don't displease him," Bella interrupted.

"Lucius already has, sister. It is too late. But it's not important," Narcissa said quickly, before Bella could interrupt again. "The point is, the Dark Lord is doing things on purpose, just to vex him. And it's only a matter of time before – before – oh, it's too awful. I can't even talk about it." Narcissa turned away and buried her face in her hands.

"What? Before what?" Bellatrix pressed, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Narcissa could not speak, as she was sobbing heavily.

"Cissy," Bellatrix said, taking her sister back into her arms. "Tell me what it is. Maybe I can help."

"He's going to have Draco involved!" Narcissa replied, between sobs. "He's going to ask Draco to do things for him, and… and he's just a boy! He doesn't know enough magic; he can't be independent yet; if anything happened to him…"

Narcissa dissolved into sobs again, and Bellatrix patted her on the back. "You should be proud, Cissy, not sad. If he asks Draco to help –"

"DON'T GIVE ME ANY OF THAT! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT, BELLA! WE ARE TALKING ABOUT MY SON, AND A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH! HAVE YOU NO _SYMPATHY_?" Narcissa flung away from her into the other room, where she started to sob again. Bellatrix did not follow.

_No point in trying to comfort someone who doesn't want to be comforted_, she thought.

"Bella," came another voice from the entrance to the room. A man's voice. Rodolphus.

Bellatrix gave him the best fake smile she could manage. "Hello, darling."

"I heard yelling. And crying," he said, beginning to move toward her.

"It's nothing," she said. "Leave my sister be."

He hugged her amorously, and pulled back to look at her. "Did she give you the dress? It looks lovely on you."

"Er, sure, she did," Bellatrix replied, quickly changing the subject. "When did you get here?"

"Earlier this afternoon," he answered. "You?"

"Oh, I suppose shortly after you got here," she lied. "Were you asleep?"

"Yes. Prison is quite exhausting, isn't it?" He smiled.

"Rather." She was growing tired of simple conversation, but most of the time it seemed all her husband was capable of.

"What are those bruises from?" he asked, eyeing her arm in a concerned manner.

"I've no idea," she lied again. "Perhaps I fell." She turned to walk away and see where her sister had gone – not that she cared, but it was a nice excuse to leave her husband. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward him. She tried to pull her hand away, impatient, but he didn't let go.

"Love, I've only just seen you. Where are you going?"

"To find my sister. I hope she has stopped blubbering," Bellatrix answered, still trying to pull away.

"Maybe you should leave her be, as you told me. If she is upset, you should give her some time to calm down on her own," Rodolphus insisted. Bella had no argument to that, so she had no choice but to remain in his company. He wrapped his arms around her again and breathed into her hair. "Belle," he whispered.

"Don't call me that. I hate that nickname."

"It is a word for 'beautiful,' and that's what you are. It isn't a far cry from 'Bella,' after all," he told her.

"You know I hate it."

He pulled back. "Aren't you glad to see me at all? You seem of very ill humor for someone who has just gotten freed from prison, after years…"

She shrugged. "I suppose my sister depressed me a bit." It wasn't completely a lie. She always thought the Malfoys were somewhat undeserving of some of the praise the Dark Lord gave them. They received it rather ungraciously, as was the case with his most recent wish. Her sister could be such a wet blanket, anyway.

"I'm sorry," Rodolphus finally replied, at a loss for something else to say. He gave up trying to be affectionate with his wife and sat down in a chair.

He always gave up too easily. That was another thing that annoyed Bellatrix. Her husband was not unattractive, and occasionally she enjoyed sex with him. He could have gotten her to bed with him if he had persisted. But he never persisted.

They hadn't married for love, but Rodolphus did love her. Perhaps too much.

Without another word, she turned and walked out of the room in search of her sister. She found her in Draco's bedroom, sobbing over his pillow.

"Cissy, you've got to pull yourself together," Bella said gently.

"You've no children. I shouldn't expect _you_ to understand," Cissy replied, not looking at her.

"Oh, Cissy. Dearest little sister. You always think your life is so much worse than everyone else's." _At least you actually love your husband_, she added inwardly.

"Stop talking to me like that. I'd rather you not speak to me at all. Leave me, please."

Bellatrix thought for a moment. She had a choice of comforting her sister or going back to her boring husband. She sat on the bed next to her sister and hugged her again. "I'm sorry. But I'm sure Draco will be fine. One of us can protect him, you know," Bella assured her. "I am sure the Dark Lord has already considered that."

Narcissa scoffed. "The Dark Lord considers nothing, except what may be beneficial to _him_ –"

"Shh! Just be quiet for a moment, and calm down."

Narcissa nodded, deciding to take her sister's advice. She lay down on the bed. Bellatrix remained sitting next to her and stroked her hair for a long time. Eventually, Narcissa stopped crying and calmed down enough to fall asleep. Listening to her steady breathing, Bellatrix began to feel drowsy herself.

She curled up on the Slytherin comforter next to Cissy and drifted off, all unpleasant thoughts of her husband and the debacle in Little Hangleton forgotten for the moment.


	15. Chapter 15: Dinner Guests

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

"More tea, Bella?" Narcissa asked, standing in the dining room. The two sisters had been surprisingly civil toward each other since their argument earlier in the day. Bellatrix was beginning to wonder how long they would keep it up.

"No, thank you, Cissy. I'd kill for something stronger, though," Bella answered. Cissy looked at her questioningly. Rodolphus, who sat across from his wife, was silent, his lips in a thin line. His countenance was identical to Lucius Malfoy's, who was sitting at the head of the table.

"Alcoholic," Bellatrix added, in response to her sister's look.

"All right, then," Narcissa responded after a brief pause. "Lucius, why don't you go and get some brandy for her?" She took her seat at the table.

Lucius nodded and rose from his chair without a word. This was how he had been ever since he woke up. Bellatrix wasn't sure, but she thought perhaps her presence here was worsening his already spoiled mood.

"Get some for yourself too, eh, Lucy?" Bellatrix called after him. No response as he disappeared into the kitchen. "Well, then." Bella sighed and placed her hands in her lap, staring down at them. _Always great to be around family_, she thought bitterly.

"Did you have enough to eat?" Narcissa asked Bellatrix and Rodolphus politely.

They both nodded, and Rodolphus mumbled a quick "thank you."

Lucius did return with a glass of brandy for himself as well as his sister-in-law. She smiled at him, saying, "That's it, Lucy."

He used to protest her use of that stupid, girly nickname, but now he didn't bother. He took his place back at the head of the table, still not breaking his prolonged silence. Narcissa reached out and grasped his hand tightly. He gave her hand a small squeeze in return and stared into his drink despondently.

Bellatrix cleared her throat. "So, what year is dear Draco now?"

"Fifth," Narcissa answered shortly, taking a sip of tea.

"Top of all his classes," Lucius added. "Well, most of them, anyway." He scowled, thinking of the Gryffindor Mudblood girl who always managed to beat his son with her excellent marks. What was her name? Griffin? Granier? Ah, what did it matter anyway?

"His marks are wonderful, Lucius," Narcissa assured her husband. "Besides, it's not always about being the top of the class. He still does well."

"I would have to agree with you, Cissy," Bellatrix said. "It's important that he does well, but it's impossible to be perfect in everything, really. What do you think, dear?" She nudged her husband; she was rather tired of him sitting around with that dejected look on his face.

Rodolphus sat up a little straighter, surprised that she would bother to ask his opinion. He hadn't been following the conversation entirely, but he had heard enough to answer. "Er, well, I think he's probably doing fine. He seems like a bright boy."

Narcissa smiled and threw a meaningful look at her husband. "Thank you, Rodolphus."

"He had better learn what he can, while he still can," Lucius muttered. "He may not be able to finish school."

The smile faded entirely from Narcissa's face, and she let go of her husband's hand.

"Why would there be any delay in his studies?" Bellatrix asked. "Even if there were, he could always go back. Don't be so dreadful, Lucy. It's not going to be as bad as you all think."

"Easy for you to say. He isn't your son. And this isn't your house," Narcissa snapped at her.

"Well, that's just lovely," Bellatrix replied, standing up. "I'll be off to what's not really my room, in what's not really my house." She began to stalk away, but turned back around to grab her glass of brandy from the table. "I'll just take my, er, not my, drink with me." She smiled sweetly at Narcissa and Lucius before walking away.

Rodolphus, red-faced, opened his mouth to apologize profusely for his wife's behavior, but Narcissa stopped him. "Don't worry about it," she told him. "Let her have her temper tantrum. No one has ever been able to control her, not even our parents."

"But do see that she doesn't drink all of my liquor, won't you?" Lucius added to Rodolphus. Without waiting for a response, he drained his glass and stood up to leave the room as well.

Narcissa was left sitting awkwardly at the table with Rodolphus, fumbling for something to say, or an excuse to leave the table as well. Rodolphus spared her the agony and stood up, saying, "I suppose I should go and talk to her. At the very least, perhaps I can get her to apologize half-sincerely." He smiled miserably.

Narcissa returned his smile and nodded, and he walked off to the bedroom he shared with his wife. He found her sprawled on her stomach on the bed. The position was quite alluring, but he tried to quell his desire for her. "That wasn't very polite, Bella," he spoke up.

"It's not polite of them to complain of the Dark Lord's wishes either, is it?" Bella replied, not looking at him.

Rodolphus shrugged. "It's how they feel. And if they can't express it in front of their own family, then who is left? And Narcissa has a point: we don't have any children of our own. Perhaps we would not offer up our own child so freely either."

Bellatrix sighed heavily and sat up. "All of you think you know everything, don't you? If you were truly loyal, no service to the Dark Lord would be too much to ask –"

"We aren't bloody obsessed with him like you are," Rodolphus spat.

Bellatrix's face turned pink. "How… how dare you? I thought _you_ of all people would understand, Rodolphus. It was partially why I married you, you know. We supported similar causes, remember? Or perhaps prison put too bad of a taste in your mouth, and now you are not as willing as before. Coward."

"Damn it, Bella! Don't call me a coward. If anything, prison put some bloody sense into my head –"

"And who freed you from prison?" she asked, raising her voice significantly. "You would have been in there for life without his help. You would be in there right now, not in this house. Both of us would. And we would never be able to see or speak to each other."

Rodolphus shook his head, seeing no way he could win this argument. He took a deep breath and paused for a few moments before speaking again. "Belle, I don't want to fight with you."

"Then, for starters, don't call me by that bloody name –"

"You are my wife, and I will call you as I please."

She said nothing, and he leaned down to kiss her lips, hoping their fervent discussion was over.

She slapped him, hard, and fled from the room.


	16. Chapter 16: A Walk in the Garden

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

In the next week, Bellatrix took to going to bed quite late, after everyone else had retired, so she could sleep in the guest room without everyone knowing of her coldness toward Rodolphus. He still had not apologized for the things he had said; nor had Narcissa and Lucius. But that was all right. She was good at ignoring them all. In the mornings, she slept in for as long as she wished, since no one ever checked on her to make sure she was in the usual room.

Thursday morning, she bolted out of bed when she heard a different voice in the drawing room. Could it be? She listened before tiptoeing out of the room, just to be sure.

"I wish to speak with Lucius."

"Of course," she heard her sister say stiffly. "I shall go and get him for you. Please, have a seat." Then footsteps, coming closer. Bellatrix stood out in the hallway to meet her.

Narcissa covered her mouth to keep from screaming. She was already on edge, and she had not been expecting for her sister to be standing in the middle of the hallway. "Bella, what on earth are you doing?" she asked once she recovered.

"Master is here?" Bellatrix asked, hopeful.

Narcissa's mouth settled into a thin line, and her eyes grew cold. "Yes," she answered shortly.

Disregarding the angry look in her sister's eyes, Bella walked quickly by her and went downstairs. She found her Master sitting in the drawing room and paused a few feet away from him. Sinking in a slight bow, she greeted him, "My Lord."

"Bellatrix," he said simply, meeting her eyes and then looking past her. His expression was very cool, businesslike. It was as though they were mere acquaintances, and the incident from earlier in the week had never occurred.

"Shall I have one of our servants fetch you something? A drink, perhaps?" Bellatrix offered, running a hand nervously through her long, curly hair.

"No, I am not here to stay long." He continued to look past her.

Before she could protest, Lucius appeared. "You wish to see me, My Lord?" he asked, his expression worlds apart from the one he wore when he was only around his family. It was more like his old self. Bellatrix knew it was an act, but that her Master had other ways of searching his true feelings. Superficial appearances were nothing to him.

"I have a job for you, Lucius," Voldemort answered.

"Of course, My Lord, I would be happy to –"

"I have not even told you what it is yet."

Bellatrix smirked. Lucius frowned momentarily before regaining his composure. "Shall we discuss it now, then?" he asked. "Perhaps we shall go to my study, if you do not wish for my dear sister-in-law to join our discussion."

Voldemort looked at Bellatrix, an expression she could not read. Then he answered Lucius, "Yes, I would prefer that."

"But, My Lord, perhaps I could –" Bellatrix began.

"No," he cut her off. "Come, Lucius."

The two of them walked past her without a second glance. Quite upset, Bellatrix sank down into the chair her Master had been sitting in. She wondered where Narcissa had gone, and how long she was going to be angry with her this time. She supposed she shouldn't bother caring anymore. She debated going to Lucius's study and listening outside the door, but decided it was too likely that she would get caught. Instead, she stayed in the chair and picked at her nails. Someone would come out eventually. She could snoop for answers then.

Again, she heard footsteps approaching and became hopeful. But it was only Rodolphus. He did not look at her, but continued walking as if she were not there.

"Good morning to you as well," she said to him.

He stopped in his tracks, amazed that for once she was initiating conversation with him. "You're speaking to me again?"

She stood and sidled over to him, her lips pouty. "Mmm, I don't much like all the silence. Do you?"

"I'm not enjoying it either," he said.

She put her arms around his neck, and he returned her embrace, shocked at the sudden change. _Women can be so moody_, he thought. _I really don't understand them at all_. She moved her face closer to his, indicating she wanted a kiss. He obliged gladly.

She hated being ignored, but she could always count on her husband for a compliment or attention when she needed it. She enjoyed that reliability on an occasion such as this, but normally it annoyed her. He was too easy. Bellatrix smiled as her lips were pressed against his and reached up, letting her fingers play in his unkempt hair.

Someone cleared his throat behind them, and they pulled apart. Annoyed, Bellatrix suspected Lucius and was prepared to tell him off, but she closed her mouth when she saw it was her Master. "Oh," she breathed.

"A word, Bellatrix?" he asked, not abandoning his too-calm manner.

"Yes," she said quickly, going to his side. Voldemort nodded at Rodolphus, but said nothing further in front of him. He began to walk, and Bellatrix fell into step beside him.

They found themselves outside in the garden before he spoke again. He pulled the blackthorn wand from his robes. "I do not see any indication that you have found yourself a new wand yet, so I thought this might be suitable," he explained, holding it out to her.

Her face flushed, lit up into a brilliant smile, and she accepted the wand from him. "Thank you."

He watched her for a moment, expectant. "Well? Aren't you going to try it?"

"Oh! Of course," she said, looking around for something to try it on. She hastily pointed it at a nearby rosebush and cried, "_Incendio_!"

The rosebush burst into flames with a great _whoosh_ next to her, but Bellatrix hardly noticed the heat. She already felt feverish. "Oh dear," she said, noticing that a piece of her hair was singeing. She stepped away and pointed the wand once more at the rosebush to put out the fire. Now she was hot, but mostly from embarrassment at her own stupidity. The damage was already done, however. She shrugged slightly and smiled charmingly up at her Master. "Ah, Cissy won't forgive me for that. Oh well. At least I know it works. Thank you, Master."

His lips spread out into a small smirk, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. "You're welcome, Bella," he said.

Voldemort turned and began to walk away from her slowly, but continued to speak. "Wormtail told me the truth. I had to torture it out of him. I do not blame you for what happened, Bella. I know it was not your intention to… defile my bed with him."

"Master, that would never be my idea," she told him.

He didn't answer; she walked closer to him and whispered boldly, "If I were to think of defiling your bed, I would choose you to help me. Never Wormtail."

He hesitated before responding to her. "Bella, do you know of my new body? How it is different – or improved, rather?"

"Why don't you show me?" she asked, leaning into him. He stepped away and turned his back on her as he continued.

"I am not mortal. This body is not entirely human, either, which means that certain… needs have disappeared. I am much more powerful in this form than I was in my old body. I won't be asking you for certain, _services_, any longer. I just wanted to set your expectations," he concluded, not seeing the sad look that had come over her face. Her lips pointed downward in a frown, and her eyes were uncertain in the way they had been when she was much younger. She looked almost like a little girl.

"Never again?" she asked.

"No, Bella." He looked her in the eye briefly before turning away again, fearing that he was too much enjoying the pink color rising in her cheeks.

"I suppose I'll have to understand, then," she said simply. She did not intend to do that, but she knew now was not the time or place to test him.

He nodded, pleased that she was not arguing with him for once.

"You may return to your husband. I must be going," he told her.

Bellatrix only nodded; she would not say goodbye to him. She watched as he Disapparated and went back inside the house.

Rodolphus was standing at the door as soon as she got inside. He was scowling at her.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked.

"You were gone for a while. I was just coming to check on you," he replied in an even voice, though the scowl did not disappear. He was looking at the wand, which she was absentmindedly twirling in her fingers. "What's that?"

"A wand."

"Give it to me."

"No. Master intended it for me. He just gave it to me."

"Bellatrix, give the wand to me."

"Why should I?"

"I don't have a wand yet, and I am your husband. _I_ am expected to protect _you_. But how can I ensure that I do that if I am unarmed?"

"I don't need to be protected."

Rodolphus reached out and gripped the wand before she could react.

"It's mine, Rodolphus! Leave it!" she said, tightening her grasp on it. "Stop being a fool. I don't need you to protect me. Just because I am a woman –"

Before she could stop it, the wand snapped in two. Rodolphus let his piece fall to the floor, watching helplessly as tears formed almost immediately in his wife's eyes. She shook her head and picked up the piece he had dropped. She held the broken wand gingerly in her hands, as if it were a small, injured animal.

"H-how could you do that?" she asked, trying but failing to keep her voice from wavering.

"Please don't cry, love. I'm sorry, please just calm down…" He put his hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off.

"Go away. Get out of this house. Now."

The hateful look in her eyes burned right through him, worse than any Curse could.


	17. Chapter 17: Sisterly Advice

Chapter XVII: Refused Wisdom of a Little Sister

"Bella, that smells bloody awful. Must you do that?" Narcissa wrinkled her nose over her copy of _The Daily Prophet_, the front page headline of which read: "Mass murderer Sirius Black suspected in helping Death Eaters escape Azkaban."

With a frustrated sigh, Bellatrix placed the cap on the bottle of nail varnish remover and put it aside. "I've told you, normally I can use magic to do this," she said, waving her hands to dry the chemical on her nails. "But seeing as I've got no wand… did have a wand, of course. But, thanks to _my dear husband_…"

"What are you on about?" Narcissa asked.

"This morning, when the Dark Lord visited us," Bella told her, "he gave me a wand. Said he found it and thought I could use it. You know, they break your wand when they send you to prison. Or perhaps you wouldn't know, my goody-goody sister." Bellatrix rolled her eyes, laughed humorlessly, and went on. "Anyway, I was coming back into the house. We, meaning Master and I, had been walking in the garden. Rodolphus was at the door waiting for me, and he wanted the wand as soon as he saw it. Gave me some rubbish about _he's_ the husband, he should protect me. He ended up breaking it, trying to take it from me."

"Well, his intentions were honorable, it seems." Narcissa's eyes were on the paper. Bellatrix was growing annoyed at how little interest she was taking in the conversation.

"You know, Cissy, just for once, only _one_ time in my life, you could perhaps take my side. That would be a nice change."

"Sides? Is everything about sides to you, Bella? You ought to think in terms of living, and what's right and what's wrong. Rodolphus is your husband. You should listen to him. Help him help you. He only wants what's best for you. He _cares_ about you. And I know you don't like it when people _care_ about you – you always run away – but it's time for you to stop that."

"Anyway, I told him to get out," Bella continued loudly, ignoring her sister's self-righteous tirade.

"What?" Narcissa dropped the paper in her lap, looking incredulously at her.

Satisfied, Bellatrix nodded at her. "I did. Told him to go away." She giggled shamelessly.

Narcissa didn't see what was so funny about it. "I hope he didn't listen to you."

"He did. He's gone. I don't even know where he is. And guess what? I don't care." She giggled more.

Narcissa said nothing, and after a while she picked the newspaper up again. Bellatrix frowned and took the cap back off the nail varnish remover to finish her other hand. She looked up at her sister, expecting an immediate complaint, but Narcissa was focused on the newspaper. Bella noticed a bit of the headline out of the corner of her eye and laughed when she read the rest of it.

"Pah, my idiot cousin, a 'mass murderer' now? Is that really what they're calling him? And he'd never have the brains to pull that off anyway," she remarked, gesturing at the newspaper. "They give him far too much credit, you know. I'm sure he's still quite useless, even as a free man. Probably prancing about with that queer werewolf friend of his."

"Hmm," was the only response she got from Narcissa.

Bella finished two nails, and her sister spoke again. "I just can't believe you would do that. You must write to him. Apologize."

Bellatrix scoffed, finished the rest of her nails, and made a point of waving her hand around extra vigorously to spread the smell of the chemical.

"Would you put that crap away!" Narcissa shouted. "It's making my eyes burn."

"No," Bella said stubbornly. "You are my little sister. I am supposed to do things to vex you." She took out a nail file and began to file her nails with an unnecessary amount of noise. Narcissa cringed.

"Stop it. I'll ask Lucius to fetch you another wand, all right? He comes by them at work all the time."

"I don't want Lucius to fetch me a wand," Bella told her. "I want the Dark Lord to be the one to give me another. It felt… so right… when he gave me the one this morning. It was the best feeling, pure rapture." She stared at her hands with a dreamy expression on her face. "I kept the broken pieces of it. I know they do me no good, but I want to remember…"

"Listen to yourself," Narcissa interrupted her reverie. "This is unhealthy. You worship him too much, Bella –"

"One – more – word – against – him," Bellatrix spoke through her teeth, "and I _will_ leave."

Narcissa wished that she didn't care so much for her sister; otherwise she would have encouraged her to go on and leave. She kept quiet and forced herself to continue perusing the paper. As far as she was concerned, this conversation was over. She had nothing more to say. She knew Bellatrix always enjoyed having the last word anyway.

And she was correct. "I'll retire to _my_ room now," Bellatrix informed her as she stood and picked up her bag of nail varnish and supplies. "Goodnight, sister. Don't you worry about me. I don't need a husband to _care_ for me, as you put it."

The room she shared with Rodolphus, which she had not seen for a few days, was in total disarray. She frowned. Her husband, by the looks of it, had been a total slob. Clothes were scattered on the floor, as were books and pieces of parchment, and the bed was unmade. If she had her wand, she would have been able to make quick work of cleaning up. Pulling the pieces of the broken blackthorn wand from the bag she carried with her, she breathed a sigh of longing.

She ran her index finger over one half of it slowly, hardly caring when she got a splinter in her skin from the broken part. Then she lifted the wand to her nose, taking in its wood scent. Not that she had expected it to smell like him at all; perhaps she just wanted it close to her face, being that it had spent a lot of time in his pocket, close to his thigh…

But she could not think of those strong thighs just now. She had no husband here on whom she could take out her frustration. Thinking of her husband automatically made her think of her self-righteous sister, who proudly sided with him. "'Write a letter and apologize'," Bella sneered. "Hope she's not holding her breath on that one."

She put the wand pieces down carefully on the bed and curled up next to them. She could hear her sister's voice in her head: _Ridiculous, now you're going to sleep with it? Really, Bella. Don't be silly._

She lay awake for quite some time, wondering what task Lucius had been given this morning. He had spoken nothing of it and had even gone completely white in the face when Bellatrix inquired further about it after the Dark Lord left. And then she wondered, _why_ Lucius? Why not her? She was much better than the lot of them – she took orders happily, with none of their nervous behavior or complaining. Melancholy Malfoys (she chuckled bitterly at the thought).

_I am not obsessed, merely loyal_, she told herself, remembering her sister's and her husband's earlier words. _I suppose loyalty is a concept none of them can grasp anyway._

With that last, self-satisfied thought, she drifted off into peaceful sleep, the best she'd had for a while.

Below in the parlor, Narcissa had neglected the news for a blank piece of parchment. Halton, Draco's eagle owl, perched next to her. He already had a short letter and box of sweets to carry to Draco as well. He flapped his wings impatiently as Narcissa finished writing her second letter.

Narcissa rarely took matters into her own hands, but she decided now was the time. She couldn't bear to watch her sister's marriage fall apart, especially on top of everything else that was happening. She scarcely cared what her sister would do when she found out. Rodolphus was a good, proper man for her. Knowing Bellatrix, she would only realize that once it was too late.

Smiling, Narcissa quickly but neatly wrote:

_Dear Rodolphus,_

_I write to apologize and beg forgiveness of the cruel things I said to you. I know I am not the best wife, and I rarely admit when I am wrong. However, I wish to correct myself on this occasion._

_I should not have told you to leave, and I am sorry I did. You have done nothing wrong. Your reason for wanting the wand was understandable and highly honorable, though I am late to realize it. Please, dear husband, come back from wherever you are. Do not stay away for a moment longer._

_Forever yours,  
Bella_


	18. Chapter 18: Fight or Flight

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

_Two Days Later_

Bellatrix woke with a start as a loud _bang_ sounded by her bed. She rolled over, wondering what had fallen, and shielded her eyes from the blinding sun coming through the window. Being in Azkaban had ruined her – she still wasn't used to bright light. She cursed it and lay with her arm over her face. A warm hand gripped her arm and attempted to remove it, but she wouldn't budge. Suspecting her sister, she grumbled, "Not now, Cissa. Just save me some tea for later."

"I'm not your sister," replied a startling male voice. The one she never wanted to hear again.

_Shit_, was her only sleepy thought.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for the letter. It was quite nice."

She sat up, rubbing her eyes groggily and confused as to what he was on about. "Letter? What letter?"

"Your apology letter. Don't tell me you've repressed that memory already," he joked. "Is admitting you're wrong really all that bad?"

"I never apologized. I never sent you a bloody thing, even though Narcissa said –"

She stopped mid-thought, eyes widening. Rodolphus watched as her face flushed, and she bolted out of bed, slipping into a cloak on the chair next to her. She looked almost as angry as when she had told him to leave, and he was beginning to feel very uneasy. "Narcissa said…?" he asked, perplexed.

"Never you mind," she told him. "Just stay away from me. I'll go sort this out with my conniving sister."

He remained motionless as she stormed down the stairs, making as much noise as she possibly could. "Narcissa? Dearest Narcissa, I need a word with you," she called. "Narcissa? Where are you?"

Needing to know what was going on, he decided to follow. Bellatrix stopped in the drawing room, where Narcissa sat in a black leather chair. Her face smoothed into a triumphant expression when she saw Rodolphus following just behind her sister. "Yes?" she asked. "What is it, Bella?"

"It is… well, it is _this_," Bellatrix said, turning slightly to point with her entire arm at her husband. "Would you mind telling me what _this_ is doing here?"

"_He_ is your husband. _He_ is not an object. And he belongs here, because you are his wife, and, by the looks of it, you have decided to live here for the time being," Narcissa said without a flicker of remorse in her voice. Now it was Rodolphus's face that turned red. He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or horrified. Clearly, Bellatrix had not written that letter.

Bellatrix looked as though she might explode. She walked forward and grabbed her sister by her shoulders. Rodolphus went forward to restrain her, but she was already shaking Narcissa madly, an endless stream of curse words coming from her lips. He finally managed to pull Bellatrix away, and she turned on him, grabbing him by the hair and pulling hard so hard his eyes watered.

"Bella! Bella, stop! Control yourself!" Narcissa cried, rising from her chair and taking her turn to try and restrain her sister.

She did not listen.

Then, a regretful look coming over Narcissa's face, she pulled out her wand, pointed it at Bellatrix steadily as she could, and shouted, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Bella's body went limp, and she fell to the hard, wooden floor.

Rodolphus stared at his wife in disbelief, and Narcissa took him by the hand to lead him away. He resisted.

"Come, Rodolphus. Leave her. She needs time to calm down," Narcissa told him. He walked away slowly, knowing he would have hell to pay later.

She was still lying on the floor of the drawing room when Lucius Apparated home from work.

He walked over to her, puzzled. She could not tell from the look on his face whether he was going to help her. It looked as though he might've been debating it. _H__elp me, you fool,_ Bella thought desperately, _before the other two come in and persuade you not to…_

He sighed and shook his head, then pointed his wand at her. "_Finite Incantatem_," he uttered calmly.

"Thanks," she muttered, standing up. "Ah, nice to move again."

"How long were you like that, then?" he asked.

"Why don't you go and ask your wife? It's all her doing."

"Oh." He put his wand away, not really interested anymore. He was growing tired of their sisterly quarrels. He was beginning to believe they could not go for an entire day without one.

"Lucius!" came Narcissa's worried voice from the hallway. "Are you all right? I should have been here to warn you about Bella –"

Lucius put his hands up as his wife ran over to him. "It's fine, Cissa, all fine. I would like to go to my study now. I have work to do." He pushed past them and stalked off down the hallway, leaving the two women wondering what had crawled up his arsehole and died.

"I was hoping he would be in a better mood today. Oh, everything must have gone wrong with…," Narcissa trailed off, mostly speaking to herself.

"What went wrong? With what? Why would he be in a better mood today?" Bella asked, barely pausing between questions.

Narcissa shook her head, tearing up. _Here we go again_, Bellatrix thought, letting her sister scuttle back down the hallway. She decided to go upstairs herself, to her own room. When she got there, she was taken aback to find Rodolphus sitting in the chair by the bed.

"Why are you still here?" she spat, getting furious again. She had expected he would just leave once he saw how still unwelcome he was.

"Your sister and her husband still welcome me here. It is their house," he replied simply.

"Ah. Is that it, then? You're all great friends now?"

"We always have been."

Bellatrix smirked. "All right. My family can adopt you if they want to, but that doesn't mean I have to. I can still be angry at you if I wish."

"It is not adoption I want," he cut in, "but your respect as my wife. Your love and devotion."

Bellatrix sat in a chair on the other side of the room, picking up a book at random and seemingly becoming quite interested in it.

"Bella, tell me you love me," Rodolphus pleaded.

She flipped a page, not looking at him.

"Please…"

"I did not marry you for love," she said firmly, slamming the book shut and standing back up. "You'll do well to remember that. And respect? I could possibly manage that, if not for your own doing. You have messed up so badly, I cannot bear to look at you anymore." Reaching into her cloak pocket, she stroked the rough pieces of the broken wand. She closed her eyes and made up her mind.

"Bella, I –"

She Apparated, not caring to hear the rest of his sentence.


	19. Chapter 19: Yes and No

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

"Show me that My Lord is here, and it is not just you alone. Then I will come inside," Bellatrix told Wormtail. She spoke to him as if he were her servant too.

Looking quite indignant, Wormtail shut the old, heavy door in her face without a word and disappeared.

"Stupid wretch," Bellatrix murmured.

She waited for exactly two minutes, and was prepared to give up. For all she knew, Wormtail had locked the door and did not intend to come back. She looked up, hopeful, as the doorknob began to twist. The door creaked backward, and her Master stood regarding her with a slight look of surprise on his face.

"I am sorry I did not call before showing up, Master," Bella told him, sinking into a low bow, "but it was rather an emergency."

He opened the door wider, saying only, "Come in."

"Thank you, Master," she breathed. He offered her his hand, and she kissed it. Then he stepped aside to allow her entrance and bolted the door behind her.

He led her to the drawing room and gestured to an armchair by the fireplace. His snake, Nagini, was resting in one corner of the room, watching Bellatrix intently. She took off her cloak before she sat, revealing the black dress he had given her. He knew she had worn it on purpose.

The Dark Lord lingered by the fireplace for a moment. Once again, Bella wished dearly that she could read his mind. He always had a pensive look about him (whether he truly was pensive or not), and one couldn't always tell what the look in his eyes meant. The cold blue, sometimes gray, color of them could have covered a thousand different emotions, from admiration to hatred. With a short flick of his wand, the fireplace rumbled to life, setting an orange glow about the entire room. He then sat in the chair across from Bellatrix, looking at her to indicate he expected her to begin her explanation.

In the mere moments it took her to begin, he took in the dangerous glint in her eye and the rest of her appearance. The nape of her neck and her collarbone, fully displayed by the dress, looked very alluring in the glow of firelight. He wished he had given her a necklace to fully show them off. There was no denying it, and it was not because she was the only female regularly in his presence, that he thought she was something to look at.

"My husband has turned into a tyrant, and my sister expects me to follow all of his orders," she began. He forced himself to look at her eyes rather than her chest. "I sent him away from the house, and Narcissa forged a letter in my name, entirely without my knowledge. In the letter, she asked him to come back. He fell for it, which I am sure was utter foolishness on his part. Narcissa probably wrote things I would never say, but he was too thick to realize it was all a ruse. In the end, my sister humiliated me in front of him, and I couldn't stay there any longer. Being a fugitive, I have a limited number of places I can go. Naturally, I came to you, My Lord. I am hoping you can offer me some advice on a place I can stay, where I can be free from the tyranny of my husband and sister."

"Let me guess," he responded, a short silence after her story. "They no longer see eye-to-eye with you in your support of me."

Bellatrix bit her lip, not wishing to turn her Master against her sister. Rodolphus and Lucius, however, she did not care about. "Well, Lucius's attitude has changed, and in turn, my husband followed. He says I am _obsessed_. And I said it is not obsession, merely loyalty to you."

"Mmm. And what of your sister?"

"Her husband has an unhealthy amount of influence over her. She agrees with him, but I believe if not for him, she would be able to see reason. If I could –"

"Your sister is capable of making up her own mind," Voldemort interrupted. "What exactly did Rodolphus do to turn you against him? Surely there must have been something to start it all."

Bella's heart sank, for she feared she had just doomed Narcissa. But she tried to continue confidently. "Rodolphus. Yes. Well, it happened that morning, after the garden. He was… angry that I had a wand and he didn't."

"He was angry that you had a wand and _I_ gave it to you," he corrected. "What became of the wand, then?"

"He tried to grab it, and I'm afraid I didn't want to let go," she said slowly. "And in the struggle, it broke. That is why I told him to leave the house, Master. I had no intention of ever inviting him back." She took a deep breath, and, with shaking hands, pulled from her handbag the two broken pieces of the wand. She cradled them in her hands as she had when it was first broken, and held them out to her Master.

He stood to receive them. Bellatrix did not flinch, though she was certain that the look in his eyes was one of fury this time. She sat still as he examined the pieces. To her surprise, he simply handed them back to her after he had looked and sat back down. The look of anger did not go away, however.

"Thank you for the information you have given me tonight, Bella," he said calmly. "You may sleep in the guest room, and stay for as long as you would like. I feel it is because of me that your family has treated you in this manner. You have remained loyal to me despite the circumstances."

Bella moved from her chair and fell on her knees at his feet. "Thank you, My Lord. Thank you for your mercy on me."

"As for your wand," he went on, "they are fairly easy for me to obtain. Do not worry about having to go for long without one."

She kissed both of his feet in response, not rising from the floor.

"Your husband will be dealt with in time, and Lucius will be greatly punished for his attitude. I have noticed it myself in talking personally with him. He thinks he can fool me, and for that, the greater his punishment."

Bellatrix anticipated what he had to say for her sister, and when he did not, she asked, "And what of Narcissa? Please, My Lord. She can still be of great use if I can talk to her, convince her –"

"I will decide that later." He stroked her hair lightly and finished, "Rise, Bella."

"Master?" she asked uncertainly, getting up partially to sit on her knees. "Will Wormtail… is he…?" She could not finish the question; she was not certain what she was asking, but she did want to make sure he would not bother her again.

"Do not worry," he answered. Bellatrix still looked worried, and he added, "After our little discussion, he will be loath to touch another ever again. Especially you. Now please rise, Dear Bella."

She did as she was told, her eyes watering from euphoria. She kissed both of his cheeks, whispering, "I adore you, My Master." The way she was leaning right in front of him gave him a close view of her long neck, and, best of all, down her dress. He felt a familiar tingling in his lower half – familiar in a foreign way, like something from a past life, or a language he had not spoken in years. He could not suppress it.

Bellatrix continued to lean over him and planted a lingering kiss on his forehead. He saw the edge of her rosy nipple, but nothing further. The rest of the skin on her chest was so purely white, and devoid of a single freckle. It almost looked bloodless. But Bellatrix Lestrange was anything but pure; he had made sure of that.

Her breath was warmer than the fire that blazed next to them, and her blood-red lips were pleasantly soft against his skin – a kind of softness he never allowed into his world. But as hard as he raged against it, this confounded Bellatrix goddamned Lestrange was always an exception. Her lips intruded upon his shell, and her breath attempted to melt it. He could not let it go any farther. These were no longer the admiring kisses of a servant. They were too tender, too lingering, too… _loving_.

Her knees bent, the dress fully baring them, and she slid her thigh onto his. He placed his trembling hand on the small of her back, his fingers at an inward curve to push her closer. He caught himself before it was too late and grasped the back of the dress to pull her away rather than toward him. His head filled with white-hot anger.

From the corner of the room, Nagini detected the threat to her Master. She glided forward and straightened up, preparing to destroy it. She hissed loudly at Bellatrix, moving close to her. Bellatrix gasped as she turned around and faced the snake.

She heard another hiss, but this time it was her Master. From the way Nagini lowered herself from the defensive position, Bella guessed that he had called her off. She continued to stare at Bella intently, making her afraid to turn her back again.

"It is late. Go to your bed," the Dark Lord told her, putting slight emphasis on the _your_.

She straightened her stance and faced him again. The wicked look was back in her eyes, which were almost black. "How can I, when I do not even know where it is?" she asked.

Enraged, he sprung out of his chair and grabbed her perfect neck in both his hands, having no choice but to destroy the object of his undoing. Her eyes got lighter as they went from wicked to delighted. She found rhapsody in being smothered, but the human body's requirement for air did not allow that feeling to be long lasting. Next came pleading, then lethargy. And just before lifelessness, he released her.

He castigated himself inwardly. _It could have been easy. So easy._

_Easy. There is nothing easy about it_, he reconsidered, seeing the red marks on her neck that were exactly the shape of his hands. More marks. His Marks. He wanted to Mark her all over, scar her, carve his name into that neck. He couldn't stop the resounding "yes" in his head. That "yes" combined with hers could be his undoing, he had to remind himself. The answer had to always, unequivocally, be no.

For once, Bellatrix was speechless. Even if she hadn't been, she was too breathless to speak again.

"Do not make me regret my decision to have you as a guest in this house," Voldemort told her. "Go to your room, and stay there. Do not come back outside until I have called for you."

She turned to walk down the hallway, but he caught her by the jaw with his hand. He looked deeply into her less dangerous, brown eyes that lessened his longing for her. He was safe until Wicked Bellatrix returned. "Go," he said, but he continued to squeeze her face to the point that it got painful for her. He released her again, and she walked reluctantly down the hallway to her room, opened and shut the door behind her. He became more at ease when all was silent again.


	20. Chapter 20: Fun with Wormtail

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling. Also, the news article in this chapter is from the actual book. Here is the online source: .com/wiki/Daily_Prophet_articles

_Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 11 February. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defense, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban._

Bellatrix read over her Master's shoulder from a safe distance. The headline, which read "Trespass at Ministry," was on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_.

"Tsk, tsk," he remarked after reading, "Lucius made quite a mess of that one."

"What?" Bella asked, unable to resist. "Mess of what?" She had a flashback of Narcissa's face the day she had left and the way her voice wavered when she said that everything must have gone wrong…

"What I asked him to do for me," Voldemort replied. "There is something at the Ministry that I want."

She bit her tongue before she could question any more, knowing that he would elaborate when he felt like it.

"Wormtail, did you ask Bella if she wanted some breakfast? Or even something to drink? She is still a guest in this house, and you know I like to treat my guests well," Voldemort called out to Pettigrew, who was hunched over on the floor in the corner. He was sulking as he usually did whenever Bellatrix was in the same room, which was most of the time. After a few nights ago, Voldemort had stopped trusting himself in long periods of time spent alone with her.

Wormtail glowered at Bellatrix but asked her nothing.

"Oh, just some juice and toast for me if you don't mind, Wormtail." Bellatrix smiled prettily at him. He got up and trudged to the kitchen, hating her. He had half a mind to spit on her food, but knew the consequences would be too great if he got caught.

"I asked Lucius to acquire a prophecy for me from the Ministry," Voldemort stated once Wormtail was in the other room. He knew the topic would pique her interest and keep her talking. He couldn't afford for things to go silent – because she would try to fill the silence with the wrong things.

"Prophecy, My Lord?"

"The one concerning Potter and myself," he replied. "The one I didn't get to hear the entirety of. Lucius is supposed to be getting it for me from where it is housed in the Department of Mysteries. As you can see," he gestured at the paper, "he is not doing well. By the looks of it, he tried the Imperius Curse. Would have thought him to be a bit more creative than that."

"He did not seem very enthusiastic about his task," Bellatrix told him, feeling a twinge of guilt as she said it. _But I am right. I should tell him these things. How can he recognize his truest, most loyal servants if he does not weed out the bad ones?_

"I am glad I have you to tell me these things, Bella." It was as though he had read her mind. Perhaps he had. Whatever the case, she had nothing to hide.

They could say nothing further. Wormtail brought out her toast with nothing to drink. Bella took one look at the toast before Wormtail could walk away from her and said, "It's more burnt than I like it. Try again. Oh, and you forgot the juice."

She was lucky that dirty looks couldn't kill. He took the plate from her and turned to go back into the kitchen.

"Oh, and not too much butter, mind you," she added. He slammed the kitchen door shut behind him, and she giggled mercilessly. She leaned down to whisper in her Master's ear, "Master, how about a Curse for when he comes back?"

He laughed coldly. "For poor Wormtail? But he has been so well behaved lately."

Though he laughed, she could sense his reluctance at having her that close to him. It made her hungry for him; she so wished she could break through that resistance. She wanted that more than anything else in the entire world.

"Not just one teensy Curse?" she asked in a quiet voice, her breath warm on his ear. It was soothing, yet unsettling – fire that yearned to be ice.

He didn't answer, and she backed away slowly. She knew it was pointless, but sometimes she enjoyed his punishments – although, now that she was where she wanted to be, she knew she had to play her cards right to avoid being sent away. She couldn't bear the thought of going back to her husband. Or any of the Melancholy Malfoys.

Voldemort seemed to feel more at ease once she was a distance from him again. Bellatrix frowned slightly and sat on a sofa. He immediately perceived the change in her mood, but did nothing, assuring himself that she would get over it. It was just taking her longer than it did him. Much longer.

Wormtail returned and shoved her breakfast at her, nearly spilling the juice, then began retreating to his usual corner of the room to sulk more. Bellatrix did not thank him. He was less than a person to her now – might as well have stayed a rat.

"_Obscuro_!" the Dark Lord called after him, surprising him and Bellatrix both. A blindfold went over Pettigrew's eyes. His breath became short, panicked. "_Tarantallegra_!"

Wormtail's short legs moved uncontrollably, and he could not stand still. He had no idea where he was going and ended up knocking into a bookcase, causing most of its contents to tumble onto the floor. "_Finite_!" Voldemort cried. "Dear, dear, you're going to have to clean up that mess. _Imperio_! Now, why don't you pick up those books. Yes, that's it…"

Wormtail was blindly reaching for whatever book he could find. Once he had a firm grasp on one, he proceeded to pick it up and beat himself violently over the head with it.

"Yes, please try to beat some sense into yourself. Now, perhaps you should go over to the fireplace to warm up. Don't want you catching cold," Voldemort told him. Wormtail dropped the book back onto the floor and went to the fire, then stuck his hand in it. He cried out in pain.

Bellatrix cackled. "Yes, Master! I think he is quite warm now. What do you think?"

"Hmm, I suppose so," he replied. Wormtail took his hand from the fire. "_Finite_ _Incantatum_!"

The blindfold disappeared, and Pettigrew got his wits about him again. He continued to cry out in pain. "It burns, it burns! Oh, cold water! Help!"

Before either of them could react, there was a loud knock, then pounding, at the door.


	21. Chapter 21: Unwelcome

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Voldemort did not bother asking Wormtail to get the door. He stood up, and all hints that he was ever enjoying himself or laughing were gone. Alarmed, Bellatrix turned around in her seat to watch him go to the door, but did not follow. Who would be so dense as to pound on the Dark Lord's house like that? Whoever it was did not have much sense, she thought.

Wormtail continued to yammer about the pain, and Bellatrix shushed him several times. He ran off to the washroom and turned the cold water on at full blast to put his hand under.

"I've come to collect my wife," she heard the voice at the door say, once Wormtail's racket had stopped. Her heart froze inside her chest.

"I'm afraid she is not for 'collecting,' as you put it," Voldemort replied, blocking Rodolphus's path inside the house, and also his view. "She is quite valuable to me at the moment."

"Please, My Lord." Rodolphus did not back down.

Voldemort had answered the door with his wand ready and pushed it into Rodolphus's chest. Rodolphus began to back away slowly, but Voldemort continued pushing him all the way out into the yard. Bellatrix got off the sofa and went partially to the door without showing herself. She had to hear this.

"Come, boy. Do you really think she means to go back with you? I think that she would have returned to you already, if she ever intended to in the first place."

"That is why I intend to take her by force, Master."

"With no wand?" Voldemort pointed out.

"She – ," he stopped himself. He had been about to say, _But she has none either, My Lord._

"Hm? What was that?"

Rodolphus was silent.

"She has no wand either? Yes, how perceptive of you, Rodolphus. But, for all you know, I may have already supplied her with another. Do you not think her Master cares for her? She, unlike you, has always been loyal to me. She, _unlike you_, is welcome here."

"I… I have been loyal to you, Master. Both of us went to prison for you –"

"Just the fact that you mention that shows me you resent it," Voldemort interrupted. "You need not lie about your so-called loyalty. I know _everything_, Lestrange, about you and your in-laws. If you are not truly loyal to me, then why did you marry someone whom you knew would be? She has _always_ been devoted to me. She is _mine_. She bears _my_ Mark on her arm. Rings can come off and get misplaced. But that Mark will be there as long as she lives. It cannot be removed."

Bellatrix's face flushed, and she could not suppress a grin. The Dark Lord had just proclaimed her _his_! She flew outside, every step a sort of dance, pulled her wedding band off, and threw it at Rodolphus. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she cried, grabbing her husband's arms and dancing spastically with him. He tried to get out of her grasp, looking desperately at the ground to spot her ring. If nothing else, he could at least pick it up and carry it with him until he got her to come back.

"Do you see?" Voldemort pressed. "Why not just let it go? I can see the agony this causes you, and since I am a merciful Lord, I will allow you to go away if you say and do nothing further. Never return here, unless _I_ summon _you_. Go home, Lestrange."

Elated, Bellatrix danced to her Master's side and smirked at Rodolphus. She then wrapped her arms amorously around her Master and planted an impassioned kiss on his lips.

Voldemort's body reacted instantly. He grabbed both of Bellatrix's breasts to squeeze them turbulently before he shoved her from him. She tottered backward and fell onto the ground.

Rodolphus's face was passionately angry, and he dearly wished he had stolen a wand before coming here. He continued to stand in the yard, even though he had debated returning to Malfoy Manor – before Bellatrix had pushed the knife even deeper into his heart. How could he move now? How could he do _anything_? He couldn't fully imagine what a Dementor's Kiss would be like, but it had to feel akin to this.

But he could not live, not after what he had just seen. His mind was too blank to understand what was coming. Voldemort pointed his wand at Rodolphus, and said, "_Avada Kedavra_."

He fell to the ground with a hard _thud_, eyes still open and face stuck in that hollow but longing look of heartbreak.

Bellatrix froze, unable to believe what had just happened. She knew it was all her doing. But once she was able to move again, she stood up and, with a piercing scream, charged at her Master.

"_Crucio_!" he cried, and she fell before she could reach him.

"YOU – KILLED – MY –"

She broke off to scream again and jerked violently on the ground.

"WHY – DID – YOU – DO –"

She shrieked and kicked madly, then began to pull out her own hair in thick clumps.

"YOU – KILLED –"

More wailing before she finally stopped and just gave in to the pain.

As soon as she yielded, Voldemort released her from the Curse. He crouched down to her level, and said in a gentle voice, "_You_ killed him."

Breathing heavily, she reached up and attempted to scratch his face, tears streaming freely down her own.

He withdrew before she touched him and went to the door, which was still ajar, and made a series of hissing noises. "Ah, I almost forgot," he added, spotting something shiny on the ground. He picked up Bella's discarded wedding band and placed it in Rodolphus's hand, closing it over the ring. "'Til death do you part," he quipped. Nagini slinked out of the house, hissing with delight at the sight of Rodolphus's corpse.

Voldemort crouched by Bellatrix again and held her head up. "You will watch this," he whispered.


	22. Chapter 22: Like Her First

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Note: This is the same last chapter I posted, but it has been revised because there were a lot of errors in it I didn't catch last time. Sorry! A new chapter is coming this evening, promise.

* * *

_She is mine._

Bellatrix lay in her bed, replaying this scene in her mind over and over – for the fourth day in a row. She had stopped eating, and she drank only water when she felt like her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.

_ Rings can come off and get misplaced. But that Mark will be there as long as she lives…_

She wished she had seen his face as he said it. She had enjoyed hearing him stand up to her husband. It was quite alluring. She wished he had left it at words, though.

Bella had decided she was glad to be rid of Rodolphus, but not by these means. Out of respect for him, she had not spoken to her Master since the horrible "disposal" of her husband's body. Whenever he asked her to join him for dinner, she only shook her head. She was sure he would try again tonight, but her resistance was weakening. It was not only from yearning to be near him again – she was also absolutely starving.

She had come to the conclusion that it was not his intention to kill Lucius or Narcissa – and it would probably stay that way if not for their own doing. This eased her guilt a little about telling her Master so many things about her family. And she thought the real reason he had killed Rodolphus was because he was dense enough to come to his home without an invitation. Of course, Bella could visit the Dark Lord uninvited because she was… well, she was Bella. She was _his_ Bella. Thinking of it made her smile.

She looked forward to her Master's daily visit to her room to request her company at dinner. She looked forward to it because she would turn him down. It felt so good; she had never been able to tell him no before. Her husband's death had empowered her in a way. But she knew she had to be able to realize when he'd had enough. He would only allow her to "grieve" for so long. Besides, he knew her well enough to understand that her relationship with her husband was not a loving one – so why would she grieve over him for so long?

_I know how to play_, she thought, _and I'm not going to stop yet._

She stood up to get her makeup bag and sat in a chair by her vanity mirror. She wanted to look absolutely delectable when she refused him tonight.

* * *

The Dark Lord had more important things on his agenda than being lured further into seduction by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened after Podmore attempted to take the prophecy." Voldemort sat patiently in a chair in Lucius Malfoy's study, his hands folded in his lap.

Despite the Dark Lord's calm demeanor, Lucius went pale and felt his heart palpitate. Podmore had not even been close to touching the prophecy before the guard had captured him. "Well…" Lucius said, stalling for time to think.

"I have ways of finding out if you will not tell me, Lucius," Voldemort reminded him.

"He never reached the prophecy, My Lord," Lucius said quietly.

Voldemort said nothing, and his eyes turned to slits.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, I didn't think –"

"No, you _didn't_ think," he interrupted. "Your attempt was so feeble, I don't think you were truly enthusiastic about the task that was given you. I wonder, Lucius, if you think it is no longer worth your while to support me. Is that it?"

"No! Of course not…" Lucius looked down at his feet, not wanting to look into those horrible snake-like eyes.

"_Look at me_," Voldemort hissed.

Lucius forced himself to meet his eyes. "My Lord, I promise I will do what it takes to get that prophecy. I will not fail you again."

"See that you don't fail, Lucius." The threat was highly detectable in his voice. To Lucius, it was worse than if he outright threatened to curse his genitals off and take his only son. He was already very likely to do the latter anyway.

"I sense that your wife is quite worried about what has become of her sister," Voldemort told him, throwing him off with the subject change. He paused a moment before continuing, "You need not tell her anything, except that she is well cared for, and not to worry."

Lucius nodded gravely, afraid to push the matter.

There was a tap at the door, then Narcissa's voice (had she been listening?): "Dinner is ready."

* * *

Bellatrix sat in front of the mirror admiring herself for quite some time after she had finished applying her makeup. Her brown eyes, high cheekbones, and perfectly shaped lips – it had been too long since she had taken the time to admire her best features. The only thing that caused her to frown was her thin nose. She wished she could fix it. Perhaps those Muggles were not far off the mark with that "plastic surgery" idea.

Checking the time, she sighed. It was already seven o'clock. He usually came in shortly after six to ask her to come to dinner. What if he had given up on trying? _No, no, he will ask, he has to_, she assured herself. _He knows I am _very_ hungry, even though I try to hide it._ Her stomach growled, and for a moment she thought this refusal thing was definitely against her best interests.

She went back to examining herself. The more she did so, the more she hated her skin. It was too pale. She blamed Azkaban – that was the one good thing about it. She could blame any of her shortcomings on it. She needed exercise? Oh, Azkaban had ruined her body. She needed a little sun? Blame it on being cooped up in Azkaban.

It was seven-thirty. She really was beginning to think perhaps he had given up and had no intention of coming to her room tonight. What if he expected her to go out there? But that would spoil it all. She couldn't go out there and say, "I just wanted to let you know, I won't be coming to dinner tonight either." No, that would ruin the effect; _he_ was supposed to come into _her_ room and see her lying on the bed, looking completely irresistible. _Then_ she would refuse him.

_Damn it, I am so hungry_, she thought, and continued checking the clock compulsively. Eight o'clock came and went, then nine. She finally gave up at ten.

She flopped back down on her bed, highly disappointed. It would have been so gratifying to refuse him once more, especially while she looked her most stunning.

She waited another hour, forcing her eyes to stay open. Finally, her lust and disappointment were replaced once more by worried guilt over her husband, which she repelled with narcissistic self-assurances. She drifted to sleep in her makeup, her empty stomach still growling in protest.

* * *

Tap, tap, tap.

Bellatrix was in a field trying to curse some stupid butterflies, but the tapping wouldn't go away.

Tap, tap, tap.

"UGH! Stop it this instant!" She went to wave her wand in frustration, but it had disappeared from her hand.

She discovered the source of the noise, and it was not the butterflies. It was a snake. She turned around in time to find it feasting on her husband's innards and became nauseated. "Oh, fucking butterflies," she mumbled, unsure of why she still blamed them. Perhaps because it was just easy. Convenient.

She started awake in a cold sweat. She immediately got up and looked all around and under the bed, but luckily, Nagini was nowhere in sight. Bella did not want to see her ever again. But there was still the stupid tapping noise…

It was coming from the window. She slowly opened the curtain to see Halton, Draco's owl. Annoyed, she opened the window and let him in. He was carrying a letter for her. She took it from him and ripped it open, stumbling in the dark to find some light to read it by. This whole no wand thing was really getting on her last nerve. Halton squawked, presumably expecting a treat for his successful delivery.

"Bugger off. Got nothing for you. Even if I did, I'd probably eat it myself. I'm so bloody hungry," Bellatrix told him. He flapped his wings haughtily and continued to wait.

Once she had found a lamp to switch on, she began to read the letter:

_Dear Bella,  
We miss you and Rodolphus here and hope you are all right. Please send a letter to tell us of your whereabouts so we will not continue to worry. I trust that you two have made amends? I hope you have not gotten into any additional trouble. Please, both of you be careful and give us a visit soon.  
Love,  
Cissy_

Bellatrix dissolved into a fit of giggles after reading the note, to which Halton responded with another indignant squawk. "Shut it, you," she told him. She fumbled for a blank piece of parchment on which to write a reply and, finding the supplies she needed in her desk, quickly scrawled:

_Dear Cissy,  
You could say that we have made amends. I am fine. I cannot say that I will visit soon, but trust that everything is all right, and do not come looking for me.  
Your favorite sister,  
Bella_

She attached the letter to Halton, who gave her a sour look before flying back out of the window.

She nearly jumped out of her skin once she turned back around; her Master stood in the doorway, and she had no idea how long he had been there.

"Your sister is still worried about you, then?" he asked, disturbingly perceptive as always.

"Er, yes," she replied uncertainly. "I just wrote and told her not to worry."

"Good." He walked forward and sat on the bed in front of her, looking like he had something on his mind. Bellatrix remembered her plan of refusing him and being silent._ Well, there goes that_, she thought. He had taken her so off guard. She was sure she looked like a mess anyway, now that she had been sweating in her sleep from the nightmare.

He pulled a wand from his robe, certainly not his own. "Eleven inches, walnut, dragon heartstring," he told her before she could see for herself.

She gasped, holding her hand out to accept it. It was just like her old wand, except slightly different, length-wise. Everything else was exactly the same. But how did he remember, especially after all this time…?

He handed it to her. It felt light in her hand, very nearly perfect – just as her first had been. Quite touched, she was speechless. She knelt at his feet for lack of words.

"Does that mean you are ready to stop moping over your pitiful husband?" he asked, his voice turning from gentle to venomous.

"Of course, Master…" she said, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness and insensitivity at the same time. The way he went from hot to cold was sometimes infuriating, sometimes so sexy it made her ache for him. At the moment, it was both.

"And you will finally join me for dinner tomorrow?"

"Yes…" she answered half uncertainly, regretting that her original plan was ruined now. Looking on the bright side, it was nice to have a wand again.

He took hold of her left arm and kissed her Dark Mark. The feeling of his lips on her skin, however briefly, was electric to her. He pulled her arm slightly, indicating she could stand again.

He could sense her desire for him, and it felt heavy in the air. He was becoming worse at resisting her and knew it was time to make a quick exit before he succumbed to this weakness. _Weakness_. He hated thinking of it that way. He stood up too, simply saying, "Goodnight, Bella."

She pouted as she watched him leave, rubbing the place on her arm where his lips had touched.


	23. Chapter 23: Always to Ice

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Bellatrix was unpleasantly surprised the next evening to find her Master had also invited someone else to dinner. They were speaking in low voices at the table when she walked into the dining room.

"Avery," she greeted him, not making an effort to hide the displeasure in her voice. He was one of the Death Eaters who had escaped Azkaban by lying that he had been placed under the Imperius Curse to do Voldemort's bidding. If this were true, why did her Master allow his company in his house? She frowned at both of them. Avery met her eyes with his beady ones, not seeming ashamed at all. He nodded at her, not seeming surprised by her presence.

She took her seat across from him at the Dark Lord's right hand. "I hope you are hungry, Bella," he said. "Wormtail has been slaving away in the kitchen."

"Lovely," she replied drearily. She had been hungry, but the company was spoiling her mood and appetite. Just in time, Wormtail brought several dishes into the room, including roast beef, boiled potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding. The food smelled delicious, and, once everyone had been served, Bella could not help but eat like she had never eaten in her life.

The others went on talking as they had before, ignoring Bella's noticeable enthusiasm toward her dinner. "Now, Avery, tell me of these 'Unspeakables,' as they are called," Voldemort said.

"Very little is known of them, Master, hence the name 'Unspeakable'," Avery began, "but they work in the Department and Mysteries and are able to retrieve prophecies."

"Are Unspeakables the only ones who are able to retrieve prophecies?" Voldemort asked.

Avery paused to chew. "I believe so, My Lord."

"Interesting. That bit of information would have been beneficial to Lucius. Ah well, it is too late now. And, do you know one of these Unspeakables?"

"Yes, Master. One of them is named Broderick Bode. I am sure Lucius knows him," Avery answered. "He could use the Imperius again, My Lord. It will work."

"Good. Very good." Voldemort did not ask any more questions and looked very pensive. Avery was glad of the opportunity to eat in peace for a few moments. Bellatrix was already on her third helping of everything but was getting full already. She was still quite peeved by Avery's presence – she wished her Master had told her he would be there. But this was his house, and he could invite whomever he wanted. Still, she remained silent, not liking Avery at all after what she had heard about him.

The Dark Lord seemed to read her mind. "Bella, you're very quiet."

She shrugged, not looking up from her food. "I've nothing to say."

"Avery has apologized, and I have forgiven him. Not to worry, Bella," he told her. Avery looked uncomfortable for a moment as he remembered groveling at his Master's feet the day he had returned.

"Please excuse her, Avery. She is rather… defensive of me, I suppose you could say. As you all should be." Bellatrix felt another current of electricity run through her entire body as he put his hand on her thigh underneath the table, where Avery could not see. Her face flushed, and she choked on the Yorkshire pudding and took a gulp of water, then pushed her plate away as she coughed loudly. He moved his hand further up her thigh in response, teasing her. Avery stared at her as if she had gone mad while he watched her sudden coughing fit.

Voldemort ignored it, speaking over her cough. "Avery, I must ask you to visit Malfoy Manor at your soonest opportunity and deliver this information to Lucius. I think he will find it very useful. I must also ask you – both of you – to promise to help me retrieve the prophecy if he should fail again."

Avery nodded. "Of course, Master."

Bellatrix had still not recovered from coughing, and simply nodded her head. Voldemort moved his finger up to trace the soft, moist part between her thighs. Bella did her best to keep a straight face, but she could have killed him for doing this to her now, when she could not react. She wanted to move her hand down and push his away out of spite, but she was enjoying it far too much.

Avery was feeling quite uncomfortable again, observing the looks that the Dark Lord and Bellatrix exchanged. Of course, Bella had always worshiped him and looked upon him with the utmost admiration – but the Dark Lord never returned it, not like this… Avery tried to pretend he could see nothing and busied himself with another serving of potatoes.

"Thank you. Lucius… had better hope… he does not fail." In the pauses between words, he fingered her clit through her underwear, causing her breathing to fall in short gasps. She concentrated on her plate of unfinished food to avoid looking at anyone.

Avery ate quickly and mumbled something about not being able to stay for dessert. Voldemort squeezed Bella's thigh and removed his hand, standing up to see Avery out. He moved his hand up to his face, taking in her scent briefly. "Thank you for this information, Avery. You have done well." Then, with the same hand, Voldemort clasped Avery's for a moment. Bella stifled a giggle.

"Of course, of course, well, so sorry, must be off," Avery muttered, and with an audible _pop_, he was gone.

Her whole body was still pulsing in excitement at his touch, and she was breathless. She stared at him as he stood by the spot where Avery had just Disapparated. He stared back.

"What… was… why… I don't…" she tried.

"You were far too quiet," he replied, smirking. "I suppose I'll have to find other ways of getting you to speak up."

"It is a good thing Avery could not stay," he added. "I only have enough for you. Dessert." He moved closer to her and held his finger up to her lips. She smelled herself. Understanding completely what he wanted, she opened her mouth to accept it. She licked and sucked it hungrily, reminded of how it was before… was he returning to his old self? Desiring her again?

She certainly hoped so.

Her mouth was _so_ warm. He removed his finger slowly, knowing he had gone too far tonight. His Bella, his weakness. But he didn't want to think of any of those words, particularly not the last one. He distanced himself from her, physically and mentally (glad that he could still do so fairly quickly), and said coldly, "Go to bed. I must think more about this Department of Mysteries – alone."

"But Master –"

"Go. Wormtail, clear the table now!"

She truly, physically _ached_ down there – half because it had been so long since she had had him, and half because it had been so long since she had had _any_ at all. There was no way she was going to sleep tonight, and she knew it. But there was no arguing with him. She stood up slowly and dragged herself down the hallway to her room, hoping perhaps he would change his mind later and surprise her with a visit to her room in the night.

Of course, her hope was in vain. He did not speak to her again for some days after.


	24. Chapter 24: Punishment

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Narcissa was calmly knitting a scarf for Draco in the parlor when Lucius Apparated home from work. She knew immediately by his expression that something was wrong. Dropping the scarf, she stood to face him, deeply concerned. "What is it, darling?"

"I… I…" He was breathless, and it looked as though all the blood had drained from his face.

Narcissa grabbed his hand and tried to make him sit down to relax on the sofa. "Please, dear, just calm down. Tell me what's wrong. Please."

He remained standing but did his best to compose himself. After a minute or two, he finally said, "It was… I couldn't get the prophecy. It was awful. I couldn't stay. I just had to come home."

Narcissa continued trying to push him down onto the sofa and succeeded. His breathing was a bit more even by now. "I'm going to make you a cup of tea, and then you can tell me about it," she backed away slowly and left the room. Lucius did not take any notice of what she said. He stared vacantly at the carpet, wishing he could dissolve into it and never come back.

His wife returned carrying the promised tea and handed it to him. He took it but did not drink, holding it absentmindedly.

"For the love of Merlin, what _happened_?" Narcissa asked him.

"Unspeakables… cannot… retrieve. Avery is wrong. They can't take the prophecies. They go mad. I just saw Bode go mad. I placed the Imperius on him and ordered him to get it. When he reached up to take it, he stopped for a moment. It was as if he knew exactly what was going to happen and was trying to resist. As soon as he placed his hand on it… the most awful screaming… he was shouting things, but I couldn't understand him. I knew the racket would draw the guards soon, so I just had to Disapparate before I could be seen. But I am certain he couldn't remove it. He barely made contact with it before he… he…"

"Shh," Narcissa tried to soothe him, sitting next to him and rubbing his shoulders. "I think you did the right thing, dear. This will come back on Avery, not you. Better that you didn't get caught or expose the Dark Lord's plan."

She pitied him tremendously; Lucius looked as though he could have cried. Narcissa wrapped her arms around him and continued trying to comfort him. "Come, darling. Not many have the stomach for this kind of thing and have done far worse than you have. Avery was wrong. You did what you could."

"If the people who work there can't get the prophecies, then who can?" Lucius wondered aloud. "What if there is some master worker there who has access to them all? But I would never be able to find out – it's all so secretive, otherwise it wouldn't be called the Department of Mysteries."

Narcissa said nothing, having no choice but to adopt his grim attitude. "It's impossible. That's why he gave it to me," Lucius continued. "He knew I would fail."

"No! Dear, don't say things like that –"

"It's the truth!" he shouted, causing her to flinch from him. "He wanted to set me up for failure, humiliate me, our whole family –"

"Don't say such things! You mustn't!" she cried.

He put his face in his hands and wept out of sheer exhaustion. Narcissa took pity on him again and held him, wishing she could be of more help.

After a few moments of complete silence and misery, Narcissa spoke up again. "Call him."

Lucius did not remove his face from his hands and merely shook his head.

"Call him now and explain to him exactly what happened. Maybe if you don't seem like you are trying to hide it from him – if you don't let him find out by readingthe morning papers – maybe he will have mercy on you. _Call him_, Lucius," she urged him.

He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, then pulled it back and pressed his wand to his Dark Mark. It burned black, and he sat back on the sofa and sighed, waiting.

* * *

Voldemort returned from Malfoy Manor, leaving a terrified, sallow-faced Lucius on the sofa, his wife cowering on her knees by his side. Voldemort had placed the Cruciatus Curse on her several times and forced Lucius to watch. Narcissa's screams echoed in the Dark Lord's head as he returned to Little Hangleton. He stormed back into his house through the front door, irate as he continued going over the details of Lucius's story in his head. He was sure of one thing: Avery was going to pay dearly.

Avery and his feigned cleverness – clearly, Unspeakables could not touch the prophecies if what happened to Bode proved true for them all. Voldemort screamed in frustration, wishing he were able to punish Avery now. Though, it was lucky for Avery that he was not around at the moment. Voldemort felt as though he could kill him on the spot.

Bellatrix poked her head out of her door as soon as she heard him. "My Lord?"

His back was turned to her, and he did not respond. Even without seeing his face, she thought he looked incredibly dangerous. His posture was such that he towered above her slightly more than usual, and his wand was grasped in his left hand, the other balled into a fist. She could see none of him, as he was covered in his black cloak with the hood up. She approached cautiously, afraid to come too close or say anything that could set him off. But she could not let him be for long before her curiosity got the best of her – as always.

"My Lord? What's wrong?" she asked again.

"It does not concern you," he finally answered. "Go away."

"I am always concerned for you, My Lord," she assured him. "I want to help. I hate just sitting here, doing n –"

"Then don't. Go somewhere else."

"My Lord, it is not that I don't like it here. I was only saying I hate being useless, cooped up here and not being any help to you –"

"I don't need your assistance."

She bit her lip to keep from talking, knowing defeat when she saw it. She turned and walked dejectedly back to her room.

A few minutes later, she heard voices and went to the doorway to listen.

In the same, cold voice he had spoken to her with, the Dark Lord said quietly, "Wormtail, go and fetch Avery for me."

* * *

Avery's screams sounded throughout the house. Nagini was the only one who remained in the room with him and Voldemort, enjoying the show. Pettigrew had skulked off to the kitchen to cower, and Bellatrix was in her room, pacing back and forth with her wand in hand. The screams didn't bother her – at least, not in the same way they bothered Wormtail. They did not make her feel the slightest bit of fear.

Instead, they were making her feel incredibly irate. She slammed the door shut with a wave of her wand, but that still did not drown out the noise. She had not expected that it would; it was just nice to use magic when she felt angry, especially now that she could.

She would have murdered to be in Avery's place now. She could take the pain so much better. And this kind of attention from her Master was better than none at all, which was exactly what she had been getting lately. He had not even looked at her for days.

"Please… My Lord… no more…" she heard Avery beg before another shriek of pain. Bellatrix sighed longingly.

She was sure his eyes were the cold gray color they usually turned when he was extremely angry, and they were focused on Avery's body, which was undoubtedly rolling on the floor in pain. She pictured his hand grasping his wand tightly, letting the hate build inside him, focusing all into one point, which he directed right at Avery. She knew he would take no pity – not even if Avery begged for death.

She still did not know what he had done to deserve the punishment, and she hated that. The Dark Lord used to communicate nearly everything to her. Now he left her guessing. And he only let Wormtail help him. That killed her. Wormtail only did things out of fear, not from genuinely wanting to.

Avery's screams were becoming louder – something Bella had not thought possible. Infuriated, she stormed out of her room and went to the drawing room. Her Master looked exactly as she had pictured him, and Avery was a pitiful lump on the floor. Bellatrix stomped over to him, crouched until she was right in his face, and started shrieking back at him. For a moment, his screams stopped as the Dark Lord became distracted, not sure what Bella was trying to do.

"I told you that I do not require your assistance," Voldemort told her. "Get out of the way."

"No!" she cried. "I'm not trying to help you! Everything is not about _you_!" She knew it was a lie. Her world revolved around him, but she was hurt. Naturally, she wanted to hurt him.

He lowered his wand and stared at her. Avery had no clue what was happening and felt as though he might pass out. Bellatrix stared back at Voldemort, intending for her eyes to be hateful. In reality, they just looked sad.

"Move aside, Bella," Voldemort said a little more softly. She backed away and sank down onto the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and crying.

She watched through her tears as he continued blasting Curses at Avery, but the yells were slightly quieter. Avery did not even beg him to stop anymore. The Dark Lord tried to fight through his distraction, doing his best to ignore her. She continued to mock Avery's screams through her sobs. Nagini watched in amusement from her corner of the room.

Voldemort had noticed earlier today how strikingly similar Narcissa's eyes were to Bella's. Narcissa's had been filled with tears too, after he had placed the Cruciatus on her. But those eyes set him up for disappointment. She did not have the rest of the face that was supposed to go with them, the pretty face attached to the long neck and pale chest. By the time he had reached this train of thought, Avery had stopped screaming completely and was looking at him hopefully, thinking perhaps his Master had gotten his fill of revenge.

Voldemort looked back at Bellatrix, who was still crying softly and looking up at him with more adoration than anyone had ever looked at him with. One fleeting look from her was worth any other Death Eater's lifetime of praises toward him – though, he reminded himself, many of theirs were false, made only in hopes of either receiving a reward or not being murdered. Bellatrix meant every bit of hers without any thought of survival or gifts.

He had not meant to use Legilimency, but as their eyes met, he suddenly saw everything. And seeing was all right. The scary part was that he _understood_ her feelings entirely. He knew exactly what she wanted. He agilely stepped over Avery's body to Bella and, leaning down, put his hand on her face. "Bella," he said her name softly again, still looking into her eyes.

He moved his hand down to her chest, feeling her heart beat more rapidly. Unaware that she was even doing it, she moved her own hand to trace where his had been as he backed away from her, straightened up, and pointed his wand at her instead of Avery. "_Crucio_," he said, with much more emotion than he meant to.

Bella sank down onto the floor in rapture. The Dark Lord missed her screams, but continued to do what she wanted.

_More. Master, more._ He heard her pleas inside her head and did his best to satisfy her. It was more difficult now because he was no longer angry with her and, as much as he wanted to, could not be.

_I love you._

This thought should have been enough to enrage him. Instead, his concentration broke, his mind going blank. Bellatrix looked up in surprise at the sudden release. He met her eyes once again and shook his head, eyes turning cold but not quite angry.

"Do not think such things," he hissed, turning his back on her.


	25. Chapter 25: Inner Struggle

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Voldemort tossed in his sleep that night, unable to escape his nightmares.

_Bellatrix sidled up to him as he stood by the fire, and he was angry over something he could not place. She had the wicked grin on her face, and her eyes were black. She undid her dress and started to slip it off, down her body, but before he could react, she started caressing him and whispering things. He had to lean closer to her to hear._

_ "You said it yourself – I am yours, forever. Why not love me as I love you, Master…"_

_ "Shut up!" he roared. "I've told you, Bellatrix. We do not speak of such things."_

_ "What are you going to do to me if I don't shut up? I want to show you how much I love you –"_

_ He Cursed her so hard that she flipped backward, falling in a naked heap on the floor, her thick, long hair covering up her face. She straightened up and sat properly, pushing her curls out of her eyes and going on, "I love it when you do that. I love you."_

_ He screamed in frustration and continued to Curse her, put hexes on her, but the more he tried, the more he knew: no spell he uttered would have any effect but a positive one on her. She liked pain – especially when he inflicted it._

_ She stood up again and walked toward him, her pale breasts teasing him in the moonlight and giving him goose bumps all over. He could not touch her anymore, not at the price he would have to pay. He couldn't feel what she wanted him to. He never wanted to come close to that; he didn't care how good she felt to him. After all, wasn't she just a female body? There were other female bodies in the world._

_ Something in his mind reacted negatively at the thought of another female body, something that whispered, "But it wouldn't be the same." He tried to squash it, whatever it was._

_ But he was too late to react after taking the time to think. Bellatrix was smothering him in a passionate embrace, tight, too tight. He didn't realize she had that much strength. He couldn't breathe anymore –_

He woke, more furious than ever. That was it, then. He would sleep no more tonight. He got out of his bed and walked into the drawing room, starting the fireplace. He sighed and tried to busy himself with a book he found on the armchair, _Moste Potente Potions_. This worked for a good portion of the night, and he was pleasant until he reached the page on Amortentia, when he flung the book aside and began pacing.

"There is no _love_," he whispered to himself, "only power. If love is so great, then why do we need potions to create it? And even if created, it is only temporary. I do not need potions. I _am_ power. Forever." He picked up the book again, flipped to the page about Amortentia, and tore it out. "No need to create…" he muttered, ripping the page into tiny pieces and leaving them scattered about the floor. Then he found his legs going in the direction of Bella's room, but he was not sure why.

Her door was shut. His hearing was keen enough to pick up on her deep, even breathing before he stepped inside the room. She was stretched out with the sheets only partially over her. She slept in a long shirt that must have been a man's – her husband's? He frowned subconsciously at this, and noticed her bare leg that was over the sheets. She wore black underwear that contrasted with her skin in an enticing way. It made him want to reach out and squeeze her thigh, just as he had under the dinner table. _Not love, just lust_, he reassured himself as he admired her curves.

Though he hated to hide that beautiful leg, he began to reach under it to pull the sheet out so that he could fully cover her body. He stopped, his hand held out over her leg, wondering why he cared. The house was quite drafty. This small act of kindness had come too naturally, however, just like the urge he had earlier to oblige her desire for pain. He pulled his hand back, deciding to leave her uncovered – all the better to look at her anyway.

He sat in the chair by her bed for quite some time. He debated searching her mind to see what she was dreaming about, but decided he did not want to know. He did not care to see a worse version of his nightmares. Finally, she stirred, curling up more into a ball. Defeated, he reached out to fully cover her with the sheet, which she grabbed in her sleep, wrapping it more tightly about her. It didn't seem to be enough. He went to his own room and pulled the comforter off his bed. _I won't be using it anyway_, he argued with himself. He took it back to Bella's room and placed it over her. She was still deeply asleep, but stretched out a little more in response to being warmer.

By now, the sun was beginning to creep through the black curtains. He looked at it in disdain – the start of another pointless day in which nothing would get accomplished, as usual. He had no desire to sleep, or dream, ever again. He hoped that one day, he would not have to. This body had turned out to be more problematic than he originally thought it would be. It was too close to an ordinary human body, only much more frightening in appearance, what with his snakelike features. He imagined that most humans would not be attracted to him at all, and Bellatrix only was because of her powerful memories of what he was before. Had they been strangers passing each other by on the street, she would have felt nothing for him, and perhaps would have even covered her face with her cloak to avoid his eye.

_Memories._ They had a large part in what little lust he still felt for her. He imagined that, unlike him, Bellatrix would have been attractive to any normal human being. She had what were considered the "traditional" good looks. But he, Voldemort, cared nothing for them. Memories, indeed. They were all, and nothing more. He continued to feel lust because he simply remembered how he felt as a mortal, when his eyes traveled down her long neck to her chest – how her warm skin had felt to his human hands. Did it still feel as intense now? He pondered as he ran his fingers along her neck. Her skin seemed to radiate lusty warmth, and in turn it made his entire body feel hot. _Yes_, he decided, it felt like it always had…

Would it ever change? What was more, did he really want it to?

Incensed, he forced his hand away from her and walked out of her room, shutting the door softly behind him. He froze in the hallway at the sight of Wormtail.

Wormtail looked fearfully up at him and stammered, "J-just came to g-give you your p-papers, My Lord…" He held the morning's copy of _The Daily Prophet_ in his hands. Voldemort snatched it from him, and he scurried away. He knew Wormtail had only been standing there momentarily; he would have sensed it if he were lingering. Still, he did not want to drop any more hints to anyone that he had something sexual – or otherwise – with Bellatrix, and his coming out of her bedroom in the wee hours of the morning was not a good way to avoid that. He went back to the drawing room and, kicking the potions book out of his way, sat in the same armchair to read the paper.

Having no interest in the front page after seeing the main story ("Ministry Angers Centaurs"), Voldemort skimmed the rest and found a small article on Broderick Bode. They reported he was injured in a "workplace accident" and was recovering at St. Mungo's. There was no mention of the position he held at the Ministry or the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort was deep in thought, unsure of where to go next for information.

He was startled from his reverie when Nagini slid up into his lap. He stroked her softly. "I suppose I have been neglecting you, my sweet," he hissed at her in Parseltongue.

She curled her body gently around his in her own kind of embrace. "We can get it together, Master," she hissed back, answering his earlier thoughts.

"How?"

She slithered back to the floor, still looking at him. "Come into me."

Intrigued, he tried to clear his mind of every other thought and imagine himself inside the snake, seeing things as she did. It was easy to possess her because she did not resist at all, and it was gentle, easy, just like slipping into a warm bath. Within no time, he was on the ground, looking up at his drawing room.

_I know where to go_. Nagini did not have to speak to him this time; he heard her thoughts, just as she could now hear his. He let her control her body since she knew the way. She began to glide swiftly across the wooden floor, out the front door, and through the woods. They were moving so fast, Voldemort could not keep track of where they were going. He enjoyed being transported by her; there was something very exhilarating about it, much better than flying or Apparating. Soon they were in the heart of London. Nagini made sure to keep a low profile once they were around civilization. She entered the Ministry through a fissure in the side of the building, which brought them into a long corridor. There were so many doors and archways, but she still seemed to know her way.

_You've been here before_, he thought.

_You are pleased_, was her answering thought.

_Yes_.

She led him into a large, dark room lit by the blue glow of orbs – the prophecies. Voldemort's excitement was vanquished when they reached the shelf where his prophecy was; an older, red-haired man stood guard there. He had dark circles under his eyes from many exhausting nights of keeping watch over this same part of the room, and his hair was turning white. He stared straight at them, at first in surprise, then horror, as Nagini hissed at him, displaying her sharp teeth. Her bloodlust has been ignited as she felt Voldemort's disappointment and reawakened rage.

_Let's kill him_, she thought, quite hungry as she imagined how his flesh would taste.

* * *

They fled from the Ministry less than half an hour later, leaving Arthur Weasley barely alive.

It had not been their choice to leave him alive. Ministry workers burst in on them within a mere twenty minutes. The workers' eyes widened, and their jaws dropped when they took in the macabre scene – blood everywhere, Weasley and his weak cries for help, Nagini relishing the coppery taste in her mouth. They murmured something about Dumbledore and Potter being right. At Dumbledore's name, Voldemort took control of the snake's body and left the Ministry as quickly as possible, deciding it was best not to cause more of a scene. The last thing he wanted was to be all over the front page of the papers. It was much easier working in secrecy, for now.

_We could have killed them all_, Nagini thought, once they were back in the safety of the woods and he relinquished his control so she could lead the way. _I wanted to drink all of their blood_…

_No. It's too risky_, he told her. _Move faster_.

She did as she was told, not bothering to put any more of her thoughts into pieces she could communicate to him. He did not bother to communicate either, his mind a mess of confused thoughts. How could Dumbledore have known? They had mentioned the boy's name too – why?

He needed to find out what was going on at Hogwarts, and fast. Once he got back to the house, he wasted no time in sending Wormtail on another mission.


	26. Chapter 26: Confidante

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Bellatrix awoke to a familiar, soft voice coming from the drawing room. She threw the covers off her body and flew to her door to listen more closely.

"I must assure you, My Lord, I would be happier to poison Potter than be forced to see him during _my_ spare time to give him Occlumency lessons. However, these are Dumbledore's orders. I must go along with them for now."

Snape? What on earth was _he_ doing here? _Dumbledore's little pet_, she thought angrily.

"How long has the boy been having these dreams?" Voldemort asked him.

Dreams? Potter? How much had she missed? She paid no attention to Snape's response; she was instantly in a bad mood. She never knew what was going on around here anymore. Not caring about her lack of pants, she went into the drawing room to challenge Snape and her Master.

"What's going on?" she demanded both of them.

Snape's black eyes flitted down her body briefly before he muttered, "Disgusting. I would have thought you, of all people, would realize the importance of conducting yourself with a sense of decency in front of the Dark Lord."

"Why don't you go run back to Dumbledore?" she spat at him, then turned to her Master. "Please, My Lord, see reason! He cannot be trusted! You know this –"

Voldemort ignored the hostility between the two and Bella's plea. "A lot has happened, Bella. Severus is giving me some valuable information at the moment." As if this settled the matter – Bellatrix's mood worsened, but she knew she would not win this battle. She plopped down on an armchair, deciding to at least listen to the conversation, if she could not participate.

"What _exactly_ did he see?" Voldemort asked Snape, returning to the important matter at hand.

Snape remained patient, though it was the third time this morning the Dark Lord had asked him that question. "He described the room as large and dark with shelves upon shelves of glowing orbs. He saw the attack from the snake's point of view, it seems. He claims to have had no control over the snake's body or thoughts."

Disturbed, Voldemort began to pace. Bellatrix continued to irritate him with her incessant questions. "Seeing what? Who saw? When?"

"Quiet, Bella. And you are to start giving him Occlumency lessons? When?"

"Occlumency –?" Bella asked before she could stop herself, and Voldemort's hand was at her throat, ready to choke her.

"One – more – word…" he threatened.

She nodded and sank down in her chair. Voldemort released her and went back to pacing. Snape did his best to suppress his amusement and answered, "I am to start giving him the lessons this week. I do not expect great success, however – Potter is quite daft."

Sensing his anxiety, Nagini slid to Voldemort's side and wrapped herself around him again. Voldemort stroked her absentmindedly, and Bellatrix looked on with a mixture of revulsion and jealousy. The room was silent for quite some time, and, forgetting the earlier threat, Bellatrix broke it by continuing to antagonize Snape.

"How is your old pal Dumbledore anyway? Having nice chats with him over there at Hogwarts? Thinking of more ways to betray us, hmm? You always did enjoy being the teacher's _pet_ in school –"

"Not that it _is_ any of your concern, Bella, but this misunderstanding has been discussed already, though you were not present at the time. It is precisely because I have _not_ been locked in prison for thirteen years that I can be quite valuable to the Dark Lord."

"My, my, Severus. You act as though you stayed out of Azkaban by your _extreme cleverness_, and not by your traitorous ways! How dare you come into this house, when you _clearly_ are not on our side, sit in front of the Dark Lord, and pretend to help him when you will only go back to Dumbledore and be his spy! My Lord," she turned to Voldemort again, "please, please, I beg you to see reason!"

For the briefest moment in the silence that ensued, Snape actually looked tense, afraid that Voldemort was convinced to reconsider him by Bella's passionate entreaties. But, always one to surprise, Voldemort pointed his wand at Bella's throat and said, "_Silencio._"

"Thank you, Severus, for the information," he continued as if nothing had been said during his pause. "I trust that you will keep me informed of anything of interest that happens during Potter's Occlumency lessons?"

"Of course, My Lord," Snape answered, relieved that Voldemort had chosen to ignore Bellatrix entirely.

Bellatrix was seething and more than disheartened. She still could not get over the fact that it was _Snape_ who had delivered news of the prophecy that led to her beloved Master's downfall. If she could have made any noise, she would have screamed.

* * *

_Bellatrix cried outside her Master's room for quite some time, until the person she least wanted to see showed up. He stopped in front of her and stared down at her tearstained face, wondering what her problem was._

_ "Come to deliver the rest of the news?" she asked him. "Or perhaps you get to go along with him to help, since you're the hero now."_

_ "I don't know what you're talking about."_

_ "The prophecy! The child that is to be born with the power to… whatever all that tosh was." Though she tried to downplay it, she was truly worried._

_ "Is that what you're sniveling about, then?" Severus sneered down at her. "That, for once, someone else did something worthy of merit, and as a result, you don't get all the attention? Pathetic, Bella."_

_ "See! There it all is, right there! You only care about rewards, your own personal gains. I am 'sniveling' because I actually worry about him. You just want to feel like you belong somewhere because you've never fit in. You've always been a _freak_ nobody likes –" she stopped herself at the acidic look on Snape's face; she knew she had definitely touched a nerve. She did not stop in pity, but because she was surprised he had shown any emotion at all. She took a moment to bask in it – she had hurt old greasy Sevvy's feelings!_

_ At that, he turned and walked away, his black robes billowing behind him as they always did, and his original intent here entirely forgotten._

* * *

Bellatrix got out of the chair and stormed out of the room, holding back her tears. Still under her Master's spell, she could not speak or make any noise as she went down the short hallway to her room. She threw herself onto the bed, finally allowing the tears to fall as one of her worst memories played over and over in her head.

She paused and lifted her head to examine the source of a familiar scent. She noticed the black suede comforter on which she lay, which smelled slightly of sandalwood and fire smoke. "Mmm," she breathed as she pressed her face to it and breathed deeply. But – how had this ended up in _her_ bed? She couldn't imagine, so she contented herself with wrapping herself up in it and just breathing.

The voices died down outside the room, and by that, she gathered that Snape had finally left. Good. She hoped he would have nothing else of use to report; she was tired of feeling like the most useless person alive. His jibe about prison had hit home, although she tried not to show it. What could she do now? She could not show herself in public, unless perhaps she killed whoever happened to see her, who could report her whereabouts. _If only I had an Invisibility Cloak_, she thought.

She was startled when she heard her Master cry from the door, "_Sonorus_! _Quietus_!" She looked up as he was lowering his wand.

"From now on, Bella, I would like it much better if you could refrain from being so rude to my guests," he told her, sitting on the bed next to her.

She nodded in acknowledgement of his uncharacteristically gentle rebuke and asked, holding up a bit of the comforter, "Master, did you – did you… put this here?"

"I don't know how it got here," he lied, "perhaps Wormtail was confused last time he tidied up."

"Oh," she said, disappointment flickering across her face. Then, her mind returning to the momentarily forgotten unpleasantness, she asked, "What was _he_ doing here? Why is he giving Potter Occlumency lessons? Dumbledore's orders –?"

He hushed her and put his hand over her mouth. "I trust Severus. He has proved himself to me. His agreement to give Potter Occlumency lessons may benefit me as well; I am not entirely sure I want the boy privy to my thoughts…" he trailed off as he stood up and began to pace.

"I do not know which thoughts are more prone to his intrusions. Who knows how much he has already seen and has not informed anyone – but I wonder if I could reciprocate. Perhaps I cannot see into his mind, but I could plant images there…"

"Yes! Yes, My Lord! Use it to your advantage. Hmm, but what should we make him see? Images of his parents dying painful deaths?" she cackled. "Ooh, we could have a lot of fun with this, Master –"

"No," he interrupted. "I could set a trap. Lure him to the prophecy. But _how_?"

Bellatrix stared up at him, puzzled. Personally, she loved _her_ idea of tormenting the boy with unpleasant thoughts. But he was on to something, thinking of using this connection to trick Potter into getting him what he wanted. She wanted desperately to suggest something, but was coming up blank.

"I will be in my study," he told her abruptly, deciding he needed to be away from her to think.

"Master –"

He walked off before she could say anything else. She burrowed into the comforter that smelled exactly like him, happy that he had let her keep it for the time being.


	27. Chapter 27: Mind Games

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

_Some Weeks Later_

Voldemort found Severus Snape's sitting room at Spinner's End much like his own study: it was damp, dusty, filled with books, and quite dark, except for the curtains opened to welcome the gloomy day outside. It was a depressing place – nonetheless, Voldemort imagined that it was a place where Snape could do much of his thinking. He found it suitable, and so decided to take his place in a rickety leather chair by the window. He drew his robes closer to his body in response to the draft of cold air there and listened to the rain. The cold did not bother him as much as it used to, and this was more a learned, habitual reaction to it than the need to be warm.

Snape opted to keep his distance, continuing to stand across from him, in front of the dusty bookcase. His face was calm, revealing nothing as usual, and his soft voice polite, as he welcomed the Dark Lord into his home.

Once the pleasantries had been observed, Voldemort launched right into his main purpose here. "I wanted to ask you, Severus, about Harry Potter's relationship with his godfather. Wormtail has informed me of his connection to Sirius Black. I am wondering, do they seem… close?"

"Yes, My Lord. It seems Black is under the impression that Potter is his old best friend, come back to haunt him, as it were." Snape twisted his mouth into a bitter smirk at the thought.

"And Potter? What is he like around Black?"

"I have observed them interact on limited occasions, so I do not fully know, My Lord. He certainly seems fond of Black."

"What of the Occlumency lessons?"

"No progress, My Lord. The boy is pitiful and cannot control his emotions or thoughts. I have seen several glimpses of Black in them. It is clear that the boy has a good deal of admiration for him. I imagine Potter is happy to have a father figure in his life, albeit a pathetic one. Almost as pathetic as his biological father, even."

Voldemort smirked at Snape's bitter remarks, fully knowing the reason for them. He imagined that Snape would never get over the stupid girl. _Love_, he scoffed inwardly.

"Tisk, tisk, Severus. Aren't you over all those old hostilities by now?" Voldemort asked, rising from the chair slowly and walking forward, until his face and body were inches from Snape's. He sensed the immediate change in Snape's superficial calm, but thought it nothing more than a natural reaction to him. Voldemort enjoyed his ability to stir up fear almost instantly.

Snape could feel his Master's attempt at Legilimency, his attempt to intrude once again into his most private thoughts. He immediately cleared his mind and tried to keep his breathing steady, so that it would not betray him despite his use of Occlumency.

Voldemort chuckled softly, and Snape felt his Master's breath on his face. He ignored the urge to step back; he dared not do anything that would cause the Dark Lord to feel suspicious of him.

"Good," Voldemort whispered, tickling Snape's ear with his warm breath and causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He stepped away from Snape and went to gaze thoughtfully out of the window. The rain outside had turned to snow. He remembered when he was a mere boy at the orphanage – he had come to hate snow. It was often all he had to look at for hours, out of that stupid window in his tiny room, for lack of anything better to do. He had been thrilled when he realized he could make fire from nothing, and often told himself that when no one was looking, he would go outside and set fire to everything and melt all the damn snow, maybe even destroy the orphanage with it. But he had always been watched there; he had to run away completely to avoid it.

Snape cleared his throat, snapping the Dark Lord out of his reverie. "Was there anything else, My Lord?" he asked slowly.

"No, Severus. Thank you," he said simply, knowing that Snape was uncomfortable and wanted to be alone. However, he lingered just to vex him, continuing to stare out of the window for quite some time. He wondered if Bellatrix was right about at least some of her suspicions – could Snape truly be loyal to him as long as he harbored this bizarre obsession with the plain, Mudblood girl, years after her death?

But Bellatrix was irrational; she held a grudge against Severus and made no efforts to hide it. And he, Voldemort, would have been able to detect his disloyalty if it existed. He stepped back from the window, deciding he had tormented Severus enough for the day. In the pale light of the white sky and snow that shone in the window, his red eyes were quite frightening. Or perhaps menacing was the more proper word, as it was a step or two beyond fright. He turned back toward Snape and said softly, "Thank you, Severus. You have once again proved yourself quite useful."

Snape bowed to him in acknowledgement, forcing himself to look into those awful eyes without blinking, and breathed a sigh of relief once Voldemort Disapparated.


End file.
